


The Choices We Must Make

by Eressë (eresse21)



Series: Greenleaf and Imladris [13]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eresse21/pseuds/Eress%C3%AB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twins seem destined to find their heart’s choices in Mirkwood but the paths they take widely differ. Thirteenth story in a series chronicling the millennia-spanning relationship of Legolas and Elrohir from the moment they meet beneath the eaves of Greenwood the Great to the years of the War of the Ring and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offence is intended or profit made in my use of them._

Mirkwood, _Gwaeron_ T.A. 2776  
The appearance of two cloaked riders on the western bound of Mirkwood elicited little enthusiasm and much suspicion from the sentries who guarded the borders. That is, until one of the riders let down his cowl and revealed a head of raven hair and a countenance of uncommon comeliness even amongst the Elves. It was enough to send the sentries into a flurry of hasty action. There was no time to waste. The king had to be appraised of the imminent arrival of two such eminent guests.

While one warrior hurried back to warn Thranduil, the others all but goggled as the two riders made their way down the elven path. Such was the fascination with the brethren, Elladan and Elrohir, that even the seasoned Elf-soldiers of Mirkwood could not contain their excitement at the chance of setting eyes on Rivendell’s twin princes.

Their entrance into the delved palace’s great hall was enough to cause many an Elf-maid’s heart to skip a beat (not to mention a few discreet _ellyn_ ). Dressed completely in black even to their leather bracers and billowing cloaks, their midnight tresses bound into thick single plaits, they were breathtakingly beautiful to behold and fatally seductive to boot. Years of perilous errantry had infused them with an allure that was near impossible to resist. 

Their exploits were well known in every elven realm and their names were cursed in every goblin stronghold from the Misty Mountains to Mordor. Never forgetting their mother’s torment at the hands of vicious orcs, always mindful of the lives they saved with every goblin they slew, they spent months, sometimes years in the wild, hunting, snaring and slaughtering the foul creatures that infested Hithaeglir and neighboring regions.

They had also dared to venture far into the south, serving in the armies of Gondor or riding in the Riddermark with the fierce Rohirrim, oft offering such sage counsel to their human captains that they were treated with much respect and awe even by the highest-ranking amongst them. Yet they always maintained anonymity, passing themselves off as mercenary warriors driven by their hatred of the Enemy, concealing their most obvious elven features, their leaf-shaped ears, beneath their thick locks or heavy cloak hoods. Only in the coastal princedom of Dol Amroth did they reveal their identities to its rulers for elven blood coursed through the veins of this realm’s mortal princes. 

Less than two centuries after their mother’s tragic abduction, the sons of Elrond were the stuff of legend. 

But to Thranduil, they were as sons, so dear were they to most of his family. He strode forward now and caught them up in hearty embraces, unmindful of those who keenly watched them. 

“I had wondered when you would think to visit this realm once more,” he mildly chided them. “Has Mirkwood’s charms so paled that you prefer the lure of mortal kingdoms?”

Elladan smiled. “Nay, sire, in truth we would have come sooner but for the troubles in the south.”

“So your father wrote me,” Thranduil said. “Come, you must tell me what you know.”

He led them from the hall and the curious, swooning gazes of their various admirers, arranging for food and wine be brought to his study. Halfway down the tree-covered path to the residential pavilion, they were unexpectedly halted by a whirlwind in boots. Elrohir laughed as he found himself with an armful of enthusiastic golden-haired Elf.

“At last, you have returned!” Legolas exclaimed as he drew back from the Elf-knight. He grasped Elladan’s hands in turn and looked him over swiftly. “You look well for a pair of roguish adventurers,” he commented. 

Elrohir chuckled. “You would rather we looked as travel-worn as the Dúnedain?” he said.

“Nay, I am only amazed how you manage to appear so... so presentable despite your journeying.”

“It takes a certain panache to achieve it,” Elladan smugly said. “Mayhap you will learn it someday, Mirkwood prince.”

At Legolas’ mock-scowl, Thranduil smiled in amusement. “If you are done with your greetings, _iôn_ , I should very much like to speak with them. You may join us, of course.”

Legolas snorted. “As if you could keep me away!”

With a grin, he slipped between the brethren and linked arms with them in comradely fashion. Even before they reached the pavilion they were already deep in animated conversation.

Things took an interesting turn almost at once though mayhem no longer stalked the royal halls of the Woodland Realm. The twins, tempered by time and tragedy, no longer cared for the frivolity of pranks and such. Their considerable energies expended for the most part in errantry, they now preferred other more mature forms of entertainment when they returned from the wild. And there were many who were more than willing to accommodate them.

The twins had admirers aplenty. Of that there was no doubt. In fact, as Brethildor good-naturedly groused, they had too many. Not that Legolas’s brother begrudged them the attention. He was recently betrothed to an Elf-maid of good family and placid disposition. The perfect match for the stolid second son of Thranduil as the king was wont to say with an indulgent smile.

It was Legolas’s other brother who resented the brethren’s uncommon allure. Melthoron, his ill-temper and unruly tongue still untamed despite the passing of centuries, fairly seethed each time he was forced to watch yet another _elleth_ make a lissome fool of herself before one twin or the other. That they welcomed the brothers’ promiscuity for the chances it afforded them to dally with either one did little to lessen his rancor toward them. Even more loathsome to the crown prince was the greater daring of some Elves, male and female, to more openly flout Mirkwood’s prejudice against same-kind relationships whenever the two visited the Woodland Realm.

The openness and acceptance with which Elladan and Elrohir regarded such partnerships gave impetus to these Elves to be more forthcoming about their proclivities. If the twin princes of Imladris were known to have indulged in such affairs, what mere Wood-elf even be he a noble of Thranduil’s court would dare scorn any who followed their example? Why, even the king himself, already remarkably tolerant compared to his sire, was inclined to further benignity when the brethren were around.

Melthoron proclaimed to all and sundry that the twins were a menace to society, promoting as they did the immorality of their kindred. A few listened, of course, particularly those who sought to curry favor with the heir to Mirkwood’s throne. But most paid him little heed, including his own family, which only curdled his already soured temper even further. 

Perhaps it was not too surprising that, three weeks into the brethren’s visit, things finally came to a head. 

oOoOoOo

It was the day Elladan challenged Brethildor to a friendly game of Strategy. The darkling prince may have been no deep intellectual but when it came to all things martial, he was a veritable treasure trove of information and skill. As a result, he was a worthy opponent in this game of tactics and military wiles. Accepting the challenge with relish, Brethildor suggested they retire to the king’s study where they were unlikely to be interrupted or distracted by onlookers. 

Elrohir and Legolas came along, as did the archer’s only sister. Nimeithel was a curious mix of solemnity and merriment. She was a striking beauty as only an Elf-maid who resembled Thranduil could be and generally sweet-natured but possessed of a disconcerting ability to utter the most unexpected observations. This latter trait had long endeared her to the twins who doted on her as they did their sister, Arwen.

A most intense and avidly contested game ensued with Elrohir and Legolas making the occasional witty if not very helpful side comment and Nimeithel shushing them as she tried to learn as much as she could of the game. It was when Elladan had just pulled off a masterstroke and Brethildor was mulling what move to use to counter it that Melthoron swept in.

The crown prince frowned as soon as he saw his three siblings happily partaking of the twins’ company. Legolas had always gravitated to them much to his eldest brother’s never-ending irritation. But to have even Brethildor and Nimeithel be on such good terms with the brethren – it was insupportable! He approached the gaming table and stared at the play in progress. He scowled when he realized Elladan had the upper hand at the moment.

“What, _muindor_ , you would let the Peredhel best you?” he growled at Brethildor.

The younger prince shrugged and grinned at Elladan, unmindful of his brother’s ire. “‘Tis a brilliant move,” he said. “But I think I can undo it.”

He moved a piece on the board putting Elladan on the defensive. Melthoron laughed approvingly. 

“See that you keep him in his place,” he all but ordered Brethildor. 

Silence descended upon the group. While Brethildor flushed uncomfortably at such discourteous language in front of the brethren, Elladan directed a cool glance at the crown prince. As a rule, neither twin paid him any mind, so used were they to his animosity towards them. But this morn, they were not inclined to take his abuse meekly. Not when it had been heaped upon them daily since their arrival. 

“And just what is my place, _ernilen_?”—my prince—he calmly queried.

“Why, behind my brother of course,” Melthoron smirked.

Elrohir raised an eyebrow at that. He suddenly grinned wolfishly, which put Melthoron off his stride. “And is Brethildor amenable to that position?” he quipped. “I would think he would prefer to take the more dominant role.”

Elladan and Legolas gasped in concert then burst into laughter. Melthoron, however, could only stare in bewilderment at the younger twin. His confusion increased when Nimeithel and even slow-witted Brethildor comprehended Elrohir’s lewd remark. 

Brethildor managed to stop chuckling long enough to say, “You spoke true, Elrohir. Should I ever care to try _that_ , I would prefer to be behind. Or on top!”

As the laughter grew more raucous, Melthoron finally understood what all the hilarity was about. He turned a most disagreeable shade of red. 

“You would jest about so abominable a thing?” he snapped at Brethildor. “You have associated with these half-breeds far too long!”

The twins’ demeanor turned markedly icy at the slur but they still held to restraint.

“Have a care, Melthoron,” Elladan cautioned. “You denigrate something that is inherent in all _Edhil_ , yourself included.”

Melthoron scoffed. “Bah! Everyone knows ‘tis but a myth perpetuated by the Gelydh to allow them to pursue their perversions!”

“Nay, ‘tis no myth,” Elrohir said evenly, refusing to let the crown prince lure them into losing their tempers. “Look about you, Melthoron. Such passions exist even amongst your people though they hide it for fear of censure.”

Melthoron snorted. “Spoken like a true Noldo. Twisting facts and spreading hearsay to serve your own base needs.”

Elrohir’s eyes darkened ominously but he kept his peace. Nimeithel however spoke up on his behalf.

“Melthoron!” she exclaimed. “Not even _Adar_ ever spoke of Elrond and his kin in that manner. You go too far, brother.”

“Aye, you would do well to apologize to the _gwenyn_ ”—twins—Legolas agreed.

“Apologize to Peredhil?” Melthoron bristled. “I would sooner be spider bait than bring myself so low!”

“That can be arranged,” Elrohir said coldly.

Legolas quickly intervened. “ _Muindor_ , courtesy requires a civil tongue at the very least. Elladan and Elrohir are our guests and deserve that much from all of us.”

“You would take their part, _tôr neth_ ”—younger brother—the crown prince sneered. “Ever solicitous are you of their comfort; so kind, so generous. But then ‘tis to be expected for you have always been too soft of heart to be a proper king’s son.”

Legolas’s cheeks flushed with anger but he held his tongue. The heated argument was fast escalating into a full-blown quarrel. There was no telling what would happen next especially with the twins around.

“Is this the way of a _proper king’s son_?” Elladan remarked acidly. “To treat your brother with so little respect?”

Melthoron scowled. “If Legolas seeks my respect he should earn it first,” he retorted, disdain dripping from every syllable. “As it is, he has given me cause to scorn him.” He cocked his head at the youngest prince. “You grovel before them like a common lackey when ‘tis they who should bow before you!”

“Friends do not abase themselves before each other,” Legolas hissed. 

“So you say yet I warrant you would do anything for these ‘friends’ of yours,” Melthoron taunted. “Even take them up your backside if they demanded it of you... Golodh pet!”

Before he could even blink, Melthoron found himself slammed brutally down upon the tabletop, a gleaming knife at this throat. Strategy pieces went flying as the board crashed to the floor. Hovering above him by a mere few inches was Elrohir. The Elf’s silvery eyes were livid with fury.

“Insult me and Elladan all you wish, Elf,” he snarled. “But do not vent your spleen on your own brother!”

“Elrohir!” Elladan cried, grabbing at his twin’s arm. “Nay, _gwanneth_ , do not sink to his level. He is not worth it!”

On his other side, Legolas placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Your concern for my honor is most appreciated, _gwador_ ,” he said, “but I assure you I am quite used to Melthoron’s vile tongue. Let be, Elrohir.”

With an abrupt movement, Elrohir released the pop-eyed, terrified crown prince. He looked down on the Elf with undisguised contempt.

“You are truly Oropher’s grandson,” he spat.

With that, he strode from the room. Elladan and Legolas exchanged glances then hastened after him. Brethildor could only stare on with mouth agape and eyes agog.

Nimeithel, on the other hand, idly regarded her near-purple hued oldest sibling. “You should know better than to provoke the _gwenyn_ ,” she mildly remarked. “They are slow to anger but fearsome when roused. You are fortunate Elrohir did not slice up your pretty face just for the sport of it.”

Melthoron could scarcely stutter in his rage and humiliation. “He dared to lay a hand on me,” he gasped. “ _Adar_ will hear of this insolence! I will have Elrohir’s head and mount it on my bedchamber wall!”

“More likely _Ada_ will have your head for behaving in so unmannerly a fashion to our noble guests,” Nimeithel coolly pointed out. “And speaking of heads, really Melthoron, it would seem that the one you use for thinking is not the one upon your shoulders!”

She rose to her feet and gracefully swept out of the chamber. While Brethildor whooped with laughter, Melthoron stared after her in shock and unbelief. He could not accept the fact that his oh-so-sweet sister would stoop to such crude allusions.

Nimeithel followed in the wake of Legolas and the twins and finally found them in the gardens. To her surprise, Elladan stood apart whilst Legolas sought to appease a still fuming Elrohir. She sidled up to the older twin questioningly.

“This is a strange sight,” she commented. “Why is it Legolas and not you at Elrohir’s side?”

Elladan smiled humorlessly. “We are not joined at the hip, Nimeithel, though it may seem that way to many.” He nodded towards the pair. “Besides, ‘tis Legolas’s honor that was brought into question and the reason for my brother’s wrath. ‘Tis he who can soothe Elrohir’s anger.”

“He cares very much for Legolas,” she softly remarked. “Think you his desire but a passing thing?”

Elladan glanced at her, startled. “You know.”

“Legolas told me,” she replied.

“And you are not appalled?”

“Why should I be? Indeed, as you earlier pointed out, why should anyone look down upon that which is in our nature?” She sighed. “It only leads to needless hardship for many who dare not reveal themselves or their loves.”

“Yourself included?” Elladan queried, a little surprised.

“Nay, I have not felt _that_ urge,” she said. “But one dear to me has known anguish because of it.” At Elladan’s curious expression, she said, “Do you remember my good friend, Lothrian?”

Elladan nodded, recalling the lovely but forthright _elleth_ whose carriage was as graceful as a doe’s and whose tongue was as sharp as an orkish cleaver.

“She and Tathariel... they fell in love,” she quietly said. Elladan stared at her in amazement. It was difficult to imagine that beauteous but oh so stern warrior maid in the throes of love. “But they suffered for it, believing it wrong, thinking themselves twisted for loving each other. ‘Tis only when my dear _naneth_ , bless her tender heart, told them the truth that they were able to love each other fully. Yet even now they stay in the shadows, fearful of reprisal.”

“They have my sympathy,” Elladan offered gravely. "'Tis a pity they have not the freedom to be themselves.”

Nimeithel nodded, smiling sadly. “They oft speak of removing themselves to Imladris or Lórien. I fear they may eventually act on it if only to be able to have their love in the open. Not hidden in the dark like a shameful thing.” She gazed once more at her brother and Elrohir. 

Elladan musingly regarded the Elf-princess whose serious mien was half-hidden by the veil of her dark tresses. She’d always preferred to wear her hair loose and her glorious locks fell about her shoulders and down her back like a midnight-hued waterfall. He thought how much a mixture she was of her forthright father and gracious mother.

She shook her head bemusedly. “How is it that something innate in us and therefore right, should be regarded as dishonorable and wrong among my folk?”

Elladan let out a resigned breath. “I will not bore you with a treatise on the divergence of elven cultures. I wager you already know more than enough. Suffice to say that fear of change and the unknown oft hinders the journey to enlightenment and acceptance.”

He paused as he noticed Elrohir and Legolas speaking together, smiles beginning to crease their lips.

“All is well,” he said in relief, his own mouth breaking into a grin.

Nimeithel musingly watched her brother and the younger twin. “You did not answer my question,” she reminded Elladan.

The grin faded from Elladan’s face. He pursed his mouth then heaved a troubled sigh. “In truth, I do not know. But I would rather it be but a fleeting passion. Elrohir does not love easily or lightly. If he were to truly love Legolas and not have it returned...“ He shuddered. “The consequences are unthinkable.”

“Then let us hope ‘tis not true love but only a passing desire,” Nimeithel agreed. But Elladan caught the doubtful note that crept into her voice. “His reaction to Melthoron’s taunts...“ She hesitated. “Does he rue his passion for my brother?”

“Nay, not his passion,” Elladan corrected, “but that Legolas felt compelled to assuage it. Despite your brother’s assurances, Elrohir has not ceased to worry that their couplings may have affected him adversely.”

“He should not burden himself with guilt,” Nimeithel said. “Assure him of that, Elladan; ‘tis no hardship for Legolas. He finds your brother’s touch pleasurable and most welcome. He has told me so himself.”

Elladan raised his eyebrows in pleased surprise. “That is heartening to hear,” he said. He nodded in Elrohir’s direction. “It will give him ease of heart and soul to know this. He has borne this burden far too long.”

“And Melthoron’s taunts only exacerbated his unease,” Nimeithel added frowningly. “Ai, he has always let his ill-temper and pride get the better of him.”

Elladan snorted. "'Tis difficult to imagine how your parents managed to produce such a thick-skulled creature as Melthoron,” he remarked acidly. “He is a cruel jest of fate!”

“As is my bone-headed brother, Brethildor,” Nimeithel added wickedly.

Elladan laughed. “Your words, not mine. But Brethildor has his heart in the right place even if he is rather wanting up here,” he said, tapping his temple. “I do not mind his company as I do Melthoron’s.”

“Yet you and Elrohir give him a wide berth whenever possible!” Nimeithel reminded him tartly.

“We have no intention of being the first Elves in Arda ever to die of sheer boredom,” he rejoined, eliciting a peal of laughter. His face grew thoughtful. “But Melthoron...“ he mused. “He needs be taught a lesson in humility and courtesy. Elbereth knows he could use a healthy dose of both.”

“And are you the Elf to do it?” she challenged.

“Mayhap.”

“What would you do?” the princess curiously asked.

A wide grin lit Elladan’s face with unholy glee yet rendered him even more breathtakingly handsome than Nimeithel had imagined possible. She drew in a sharp breath as an unfamiliar sensation snaked its way through her limbs.

“I am confident I can think of something... effective,” Elladan responded, unaware of the change in his companion’s countenance.

Just then, Elrohir and Legolas joined them. The younger twin immediately noticed his brother’s roguish expression.

“What are you planning, brother?” he asked suspiciously.

Elladan smiled sweetly. “Why nothing, _gwanneth_.”

Elrohir’s eyes narrowed. “Then why do I get the feeling that something is going to happen shortly?”

“Now what could possibly happen so soon?” Elladan countered with patently false innocence.

“Short of the entire forest going up in flames?” Elrohir snorted. “In your hands, anything!”

“Do not fear, I am not contemplating so heinous a prank as razing Mirkwood to the ground,” Elladan assured him.

“I should hope not!” Legolas remarked, half amused, half alarmed at the very idea.

“Out with it, _gwaniaur_ ”—older twin—Elrohir growled. “You have never kept a secret from me. I am not about to let you start doing so now.”

Elladan chuckled. “Then come with me, _muindor_. I would have your opinion as to the efficacy of a ‘lesson’ that needs be taught.”

He took Elrohir by the arm and hauled him away. Legolas watched them saunter off, wondering at the nervous fluttering at the pit of his stomach. The twins were already discussing something that was obviously of great interest to both judging from their animated gestures. That didn’t bode well for whoever or whatever they were talking about, he mused. He glanced at his sister then regarded her curiously.

Nimeithel watched the brethren, too, a thoughtful expression on her fair face. But her eyes fastened more oft than not on Elladan with an intensity previously lacking.

*************************************  
Glossary:  
Gwaeron - Sindarin for March  
elleth – Elf-maid  
ellyn – male Elves  
iôn – son  
naneth - mother  
muindor – brother  
Gelydh – ‘Deep Elves”, Sindarin name for the Noldor  
gwanneth – younger twin  
gwador - sworn brother  
Adar, Ada – Father, Papa

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Melthoron practically scurried down the corridor to his bedchamber one night a week later. It was way past the midnight hour and all was silent in the residential pavilion save for the sound of his light footsteps. In the stillness, they seemed uncommonly loud. 

The Crown Prince of Mirkwood darted into his room as if a pack of Wargs were on his trail. He swiftly shut the door and sagged against it. So flustered was he that he did not notice that though his windows and balcony door had been opened to let in the fresh night breeze, the draperies were drawn thereby shutting out moon and starlight. And since not a single taper had been lit, the room was steeped in darkness so deep he could barely make out the contents of his room. Mayhap he preferred it that way. The dark hid his uncharacteristically disheveled appearance even from himself.

His heart beating erratically, Melthoron staggered blindly to the wide four-poster bed, ripping off his cloak as he did so, and sank down shakily. He flinched and groaned as certain body parts protested almost at once. Elbereth! What had he been thinking? Why had he allowed that? His thoughts wandered back unwillingly to the events of the evening.

Since the advent of the Peredhil in Greenwood, a society of Elves who dared to explore their duality had come into being in the Woodland Realm. Always prudently discreet, these Elves met in secret in selected residences where they could be open about their loves and lives. Typically the larger gatherings were held in the more spacious multi-chambered homes of Wood-elves of noble birth while smaller homes hosted more intimate affairs. In these havens, they could freely unite with their loved ones and voice their frustrations and joys. And in these hidden refuges, they could experience as much or as little intimacy as they desired without fear of discovery.

Not all were involved in long-term relationships. Some simply went to these gatherings in search of the fleeting satiation of a casual coupling. And for the few who were wary even amongst kindred souls, these meetings were especially attractive because of the anonymity they afforded to those who were not prepared to unveil themselves. 

They were always dimly lit, these sanctuaries. Partly to accommodate those who wished to conceal their identities, partly to avoid calling attention to the residence in which a gathering was occurring. Of course, for the greater number with no need to hide, there were always adequately illuminated chambers at their disposal. And anyway, with time, even the shyest or most timid came to trust their fellows and revealed themselves, thus sharing in the freedom of unwariness the others enjoyed. All save one. 

When Melthoron first heard rumor of this secret society within the bounds of Mirkwood, he’d thought to confirm its existence with the object of exposing its members to the greater population of the Woodland Realm. Though the participation in same-kind relationships was no longer treated as a criminal offense as had been the case during Oropher’s time, those who were proven to be involved in such activities were usually ostracized to the extent that they were either forced to renounce their partnerships or leave Mirkwood for more friendly realms. 

And so the prince had managed to learn of the time and location of one gathering and attended it incognito. It was fairly simple to do so. A heavy cloak with its hood up, the dim lighting, the understanding that not all Elves who came desired to reveal themselves. Melthoron went. And found he could not expose these _Edhil_ as he’d planned.

Something awakened within him when he witnessed the intimacies between paired _ellyn egor eolith_. Curiosity at first. Then bemusement that he should be curious. And finally and improbably, unexpected arousal and desire. 

That had shocked him to near witlessness the first time he recognized his feelings. It had spurred him to be even more vicious in speaking out against those very same Elves who inspired the feelings in him. It was part foolish reprisal against them for unknowingly upsetting his life and part insurance that no one would suspect him of harboring these unnatural proclivities when he so actively opposed them in public. 

But he could not stay away. Not from what beckoned so seductively to his very spirit until, finally, he began to tread at the periphery of their activities. A passionate grope here, a flurry of kisses there, always in the darkest shadows where even elven eyes could not make out features enough to identify the other. He’d spent himself on occasion in the capable hand of one partner or the other but had never gone any further than rabid fondling; that Mirkwood warriors were known to do so on occasion when far afield was an excuse he clung to no matter how spurious.

But tonight! He groaned and fell back on his bed, staring blindly at the invisible ceiling. What had possessed him to allow things to proceed that far?

By now, he knew most of the Elves who belonged to the society. He’d been quite shocked to discover not a few prominent names amongst their number including respected nobles, highly regarded scholars and renowned warriors. He’d avoided trysting with them, fearing they would recognize him since they moved in the same circles. He was extremely cautious about being caught. It would not only be personally humiliating but would also produce the biggest scandal to hit Mirkwood since Thranduil precipitately wed Ithilwen when she’d carelessly allowed him to get her with child. 

Tonight, he’d sat by himself in a corner of the darkened common hall as he always did when he attended one of these gatherings. Sooner or later, someone would approach either to inquire as to his comfort or to proposition him. When it was the latter, he always made his limitations clear at once and so matters never progressed beyond whatever couch he happened to have seated himself in from the start. 

But this evening, an Elf had sat by him uninvited and engaged him in hushed conversation. He couldn’t tell who the other was since he, too, was cloaked and hooded. But he was soon beguiled by the stranger’s droll wit, obvious bodily beauty and seductive appeal. One thing had led to another and before he knew it he was unmoored by kisses and touches that rendered his brain all but incapable of doing what it had been created to do. Which was why when his companion softly suggested they go somewhere more private...

“I trust you are recovered from your earlier exertions?”

If an Elf could experience a heart attack, Melthoron came very close to doing so now. He bolted to his feet in shock, his heart thumping madly, his breath coming in short, erratic spurts.

“Who—?!” He became aware of a shadowed figure seated in the armchair by the cold hearth. “How did you get in here?” he demanded, somewhat stupidly on reflection. 

“‘Tis simple to get anywhere if one knows one’s way around,” the stranger murmured. Melthoron frowned. Somehow he sounded... where had he heard that voice before? “I would not do that if I were you,” the intruder added when the prince opened his mouth to call for the guards. “Not if you wish the whole of Mirkwood to know where you just spent your evening. And a very dissolute one I must say.”

Melthoron stared, appalled, at the other Elf. “I do not know what you are talking about,” he blurted out at length.

“Then let me elucidate. This night, a certain Elf came to the gathering at Lord Grithnir’s home seeking, shall we say, congenial companionship. As he has gone to several others in the past five years or so. Always cloaked, always hidden, always silent save for the sparest of whispered utterances. None know who he is for he alone refuses to give even a hint as to his identity. He is recognized only by the _mithril_ clasp with which he fastens his cloak.”

“But tonight, this Elf met another whom he apparently could not resist. He allowed himself to be drawn into a private chamber, permitted more than just the usual kisses and caresses. For the first time, he knew the full pleasures of intimacy with another _ellon_. That Elf was you, Melthoron of Mirkwood.”

“Nay, that – that is a lie!” The prince was virtually shaking in his fine leather boots.

“A lie? Were your moans of satisfaction a lie as well? Or the seed you spent so copiously upon the sheets?” Mild amusement limned the other Elf’s voice at the prince’s horrified countenance. “Or the reason for the unusual scar you bear on your thigh? A broken branch that dug into it when you fell during a hunt several years back, you said. Was that a lie, too?”

The world came to a stop as the familiarity of that maddeningly seductive voice suddenly became more acute.

Melthoron gasped. “ _You?_ ”

“Aye, me.”

The fair-haired Elf sat down upon the edge of his bed, his knees giving way at last. “What is it you want of me?” he demanded hoarsely. “Would you have me in thrall to your demands?”

A husky chuckle reverberated through the room. Unbidden, it sent a thrill of excitement up the prince’s spine much to his disconcertment. The Elf rose, revealing a lean form clad in naught but a thin, form-hugging shirt and tight long breeches. About his shoulders spilled dark, lush unbound locks.

“Have you in thrall, my prince?” he softly said. “Nay, but I would have you again.”

Before Melthoron could move, the other Elf had him flat on the bed, pinning him down with the ease of one who was well versed in the love-arts. Shock blunted the crown prince’s otherwise battle-swift reflexes. Before he could mount a counter-attack in earnest, his assailant reached between them, tore open his already loosely laced breeches and had him in hand. He groaned and collapsed completely, gasping and trembling as skillful hands worked him to near excruciating arousal.

“Relax and enjoy yourself,” the Elf crooned as he made short work of Melthoron’s garments. “This is but the beginning for I intend to deliver you into rapture many times before the light of day.”

Melthoron succumbed to his partner’s masterful attentions.

oOoOoOo

Hours later, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood awoke with a start, his long legs tangled in the cool white sheet with which he had been thoughtfully covered. He winced as he rolled onto his side, his backside throbbing with unaccustomed rawness. But that was to be expected after having been ridden to near senselessness and sharpest pleasure several times in one night. He squinted into the still dimness. Dawn was just breaking and the window and balcony draperies were still drawn. 

He became aware of the figure leaning against the wall by the balcony, looking at him. Fully dressed, he realized with a jolt, and his dark hair neatly bound into a style he found different yet unaccountably familiar.

He sat up gingerly and stared at his bold bed-teacher. The other Elf said nothing.

“Who are you?” Melthoron finally asked.

“Why do you wish to know?” the Elf softly challenged. “So that you may hound me out of Mirkwood?”

“Nay, of course not!” Melthoron objected. “I could hardly do that when you—” He halted, feeling his stomach lurch at the thought of the hold this Elf now had on him.

“And what of the others?” his companion pointed out. “You infiltrated their band that you might expose them. Were it not for the revelation that overtook you, I have no doubts they would have been revealed to Mirkwood years ago. Indeed, you always speak quite vehemently against Elves who love their own kind though I wager ‘tis partly to throw off any suspicions that you had taken to exploring your dual nature.”

Melthoron swallowed hard. “I will not pursue that course,” he finally said. “I concede I may have need of – of...”

“Sanctuary?” At the prince’s hesitant nod, the dark-haired Elf said, “You will come to know where your heart lies; whether ‘twill be an _ellon_ or an _elleth_ that will stir you will matter not. Or you may never give your heart to any one Elf at all. That is perfectly acceptable as well. ‘Tis your right to choose, Melthoron. ‘Tis the right of all _Edhil_.”

The prince sighed. “So I was told by somebody recently. But I did not wish to accept it.”

“And now?”

“I have no choice, do I? Though I cannot be open about this. Mayhap I never can. I am still the Crown Prince of the Woodland Realm and as such must uphold the laws of this kingdom.” He looked at his one-night lover. “But this much I can do. I swear I will stay my hand and tongue in this matter. Is that what you want?” At the other’s nod of assent, he pleaded, “Now, please tell me, who are you?”

The Elf grasped the draperies and pulled them aside. The hazy light of early morning flooded the chamber and illuminated his features.

Had Melthoron chosen to howl his shock, it would have been enough to rouse all of Mirkwood and neighboring Esgaroth besides. As it was, all he managed was a strangled gasp of recognition tinged with equal parts disbelief and awe.

oOoOoOo

“Is it my imagination or is Melthoron more civil toward the two of you these days?” Legolas inquired.

He and the brethren were lounging by the drill yard, watching the newest and youngest batch of Mirkwood warriors go through their paces.

“Nay, you are not imagining things, Calenlass,” Elrohir demurred. “He has been admirably civil and has even deigned to converse quite politely with us on occasion.”

Legolas noticed the slightest quiver in the younger twin’s lips, which indicated a tightly suppressed desire to laugh. He gazed suspiciously at the Elf-knight then at Elladan who was pursing his lips for the same reason as his brother.

“I wonder what wrought this change?” the prince commented, keenly studying his friends. “Oh, and only this morn he rebuked several counsellors for suggesting that _Adar_ come down harder on Elves who practice their duality. ‘Tis a thing unheard of where my brother is concerned!”

Elladan smiled so gently Legolas at once found it suspect. The older twin said very softly: “Well, he can scarcely allow such harsh measures when more than one Mirkwood prince has had a Peredhel up his backside.”

For the space of a heartbeat, Legolas stared at him blankly, the enormity of the simple statement too great to register all at once. And then he gaped at the older twin in utter speech-stealing shock prompting Elrohir to dissolve into silent, shoulder-shaking laughter. For the longest while, the prince remained thusly. When he finally found his tongue, he could only inadequately mutter, “That must have been quite a lesson...”

Hidden a short distance behind them by the gnarled thick trunk of an ancient tree but still within earshot, Nimeithel just managed to stifle her own gasp of surprise. _Melthoron? Bedded by Elladan?_ She peered around the tree to regard the older twin. An odd mixture of pangs of unwonted jealousy and a coursing of desirous admiration burned through her being. 

Ai, what madness had come upon her that she should feel this way about Elrond’s older son? Of all the Elves in Arda, why Elladan who saw her as nothing more than his friend’s little sister? 

It was a most improbable and impossible situation.

oOoOoOo

The brethren stayed until May. With Melthoron’s unruly tongue miraculously tamed insofar as the twins and elven duality were concerned, no more untoward incidents occurred and the scions of both the woodland kingdom of Mirkwood and the valley realm of Rivendell enjoyed each other’s company to the fullest. To the royal household’s amazement, Melthoron actually joined in some of the revels thought up by his youngest brother and the twins. It was such unprecedented behavior that many wondered if the crown prince had taken leave of his senses. But as he seemed in full possession of them, everyone eventually concluded that he’d simply grown up at last.

But delightful as the brethren’s visit was, their stay had to end and, as summer encroached, they made preparations to depart. Legolas did not hide his distress that they would soon take leave of Mirkwood. Ever loath to dispense with their company, he complained that they were much too stingy of late with their fellowship what with their errantry and journeying. It was nigh twenty years since last he’d been with them. Would it be another score before they met once more?

Heedful as always of Legolas’s sentiments, Elrohir sought to rectify matters. After feeling Legolas’s doleful gaze upon him as he packed the last of his belongings the eve of their departure, he straightened up and looked at the prince. 

“We need not wait so long before meeting again,” he said. “Elladan and I plan to rest a year in Imladris before we go hunting once more. If you would care to visit us in the spring...?”

“Only in the spring?” Legolas scowled.

The Elf-knight chuckled. “Nay, we would be pleased to have you stay for as long as you can. What say you?”

Legolas considered the prospect of spending most of the following year’s spring, the whole of summer and part of autumn in Rivendell. A grin curved his lips and his eyes glowed with pleasure.

“Done!” he enthusiastically agreed. “Look to the east as soon as the first blossoms awaken, _gwador nîn_.”

Elrohir smiled. “I will, Calenlass.”

***********************************  
Glossary:  
ellyn egor ellith - male Elves or Elf-maids  
ellon – male Elf  
Adar - Father  
gwador nîn - my sworn brother

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

Imladris, _tuilë-yavië_ T.A. 2777  
As Legolas had promised he traveled to Rivendell as soon as the snow melted away and the passes of Hithaeglir were cleared once again. Hardly were the first buds of the year open when he left Mirkwood and made the long trek to the hidden vale. With him was Nimeithel.

As soon as he had asked leave from the Elvenking for an extended visit to the brethren, she had pleaded to be allowed to accompany him to Rivendell. 

“I have long yearned to see Imladris,” she earnestly said. “Always have I contented myself with what tales you care to tell me, Legolas. But now I desire very much to see for myself what wonders there are to see. Please, _tôr guar_ , do not leave me behind yet again.”

Legolas had looked at Thranduil who in turn considered his daughter’s request. “I suppose I can trust Legolas to look after you,” he commented mildly.

“ _Ada_ , she is no infant in need of a nursemaid,” Legolas pointed out indignantly.

“But she is still an Elf-maid venturing into new territory,” Thranduil shot back dryly. “And the twins’ territory no less.”

Legolas had to laugh at the king’s lack of trust when it came to the twins and carnal matters. But then considering their voracious appetites... “I will keep her virtue safe, _Ada_ ,” he grinned. 

“Then I see no reason why you cannot go with your brother, _iell_ ”—daughter—the Elf-king told his only daughter. 

He was rewarded with a hug so tight, he had to draw a deep breath afterwards to replenish his air supply. So it was that, three weeks later, Nimeithel rode at Legolas’s side as they negotiated the steep slope leading down into the deep-cloven valley that harbored the elven refuge. They were met by the twins ere they came to the Bruinen and they crossed the bridge together. 

It was a joyful meeting; one that Nimeithel had cause to envy. Only a year had gone by since the twins’ visit to Mirkwood yet they greeted each other as if it was three score instead. But then she supposed it was to be expected since before that, twenty years had passed with little more than brief missives between them. She cautiously observed Elrohir’s demeanor around her brother, mindful of her previous discussion with Elladan. That in turn led her to regard the older twin; surreptitiously lest someone note her undue interest and give importance to it.

“‘Tis a pity that Nimeithel should visit when Arwen is in Lórien,” she heard Elrohir say. “They would get along splendidly, I warrant.”

“Aye, they are very much alike though Arwen has ever been the more tart of tongue,” Elladan added. 

“Yet she has greatly mellowed, _gwaniuar_ ,” Elrohir remarked. “Our grandam’s influence no doubt.”

“She spends much time in Lórien?” Legolas asked.

“Since Mother’s passing she spends years at a time with our grandparents,” Elladan explained. “More than twenty five years the last visit and no doubt it will be many years before she returns from this one.”

“Lord Elrond must be very lonely with all his children gone for such lengths of time,” Legolas said pointedly. He had never been able to bring himself to approve of the brethren’s vengeance-driven errantry.

“We never do so together,” Elrohir gently said. “Arwen remains with _Adar_ when we are gone for longer than a year and we do the same in turn. We would never forsake our father thusly.”

“I should hope not,” Legolas said. “Though you seem to think nothing of forsaking others.”

“Ah, the truth will out,” Elladan said. “‘Tis our abandonment of your company that you dislike.”

Legolas blushed slightly. “Well, ‘tis only that your absences have grown longer with the passing years. Twenty this last and more than forty the one before that. I have oft times wondered if I would ever have the pleasure of your society again.”

“It will not happen again, Calenlass,” Elrohir quietly promised, eliciting a look of surprise from his own brother. 

Watching him, Nimeithel had the distinct impression that the Elf-knight had made that decision only at that very instant and in response to Legolas’ displeasure. 

Legolas looked at the younger twin keenly. “Truly?”

Elrohir returned his gaze. “I swear this last will indeed by our last long sojourn. Should we venture forth in the future, we shall keep such journeying brief. I hope this will content you?”

Touched that Elrohir should so speedily acquiesce to his wishes, Legolas beamed affectionately at him and said, “Aye, it will and it pleases me greatly as well. Thank you, _meldiren_.”—my friend.

Feeling rather invisible, Nimeithel decided to make her presence felt. She cleared her throat loudly, drawing the others’ attention.

“Nimeithel, forgive us,” Legolas said contritely. “We did not mean to ignore you.”

“Aye, ‘twas not intentional,” Elladan warmly said. “Elrohir and I shall make amends for this egregious oversight, I promise.” 

She dimpled charmingly. “I understand your forgetfulness,” she said. “And hold no ill-will towards you. But I hope ‘twill not be repeated for I have no mind to be treated like so much extra baggage.”

“Ah, that stings,” Elrohir chuckled. “I doubt we will miss Arwen overmuch with your sister here in her stead,” he said to Legolas

Legolas laughed, casting Nimeithel a fond glance. “You had best take that as high praise, _muinthel_ ”—sister—he said.

“I do,” she smiled. “I have heard enough from you about the Lady Arwen to know I should esteem her.”

“And fear her,” Elladan added with a wicked grin. “But let us not tarry. I imagine you must be weary from your journey and long for some rest.”

“That I do, Elladan,” she agreed. 

He smiled then with such heartfelt kindness that his already handsome face glowed with even greater beauty. To her horror, Nimeithel felt her cheeks heat up and she hastily bowed her head to let her loose hair obscure her face. 

“Let us hurry,” Elladan said to Legolas with concern, mistaking her posture for exhaustion. “I would have your sister resting in her chamber soonest.” None saw her cheeks turn even more crimson under his tender regard. 

They proceeded to the Last Homely House at a markedly brisker pace.

oOoOoOo

Nimeithel soon discovered that a visit to Imladris with her brother was not all leisure and enjoyment. While the first weeks were indeed all that she could have desired – walks and rides in the valley and the woods and hills around it; constant company with such legends as Glorfindel and Erestor, not to mention Lord Elrond himself and his renowned sons; Lindir’s wondrous music, his fair voice rivaling those of the Silvan Elves; the comfort of Almáriel and Iörwen’s maternal attentions long missed since her mother’s passing; and enticing insights into daily life in the fabled refuge – the exigencies of the times eventually reared their not so attractive heads.

Just as the twins oft took part in patrols or the chase with Legolas when they visited Mirkwood, so now did Legolas offer his skill in arms whenever either brother or both joined scouting or hunting expeditions out of Rivendell. At such times, she felt torn between concern for the three of them and impatience at being left to her own devices until her brother should return. 

The other male members of the household had responsibilities to attend to and she was not one for endless sewing and cooking, kind as Iörwen and Almáriel were. Nor could she keep company with Elladan or Elrohir when either stayed behind in Rivendell. Legolas had warned her never to remain alone with one twin or the other. The Elf-prince trusted his friends with his very life but he was not as trusting when it came to his only sister’s innocence. Not when he knew their reputations much too well and the exploits behind said reputations. 

She began to chafe at the restriction and the feeling of rebellion became especially strong after spending nearly a week doing naught but embroidering, weaving and kitchen duty when the three took off with an Imladrin hunting party. They could not fail to notice her expression of displeasure when they returned and offered to assuage it with anything in their power to bestow.

Nonetheless, they were still surprised by the demand she made when she did take up their offer. Elladan was tasked to lead a patrol investigating renewed orkish activity southwest of Rivendell and Legolas was going with him. Elrohir would stay behind to help Elrond with his many duties not least of which was serving in the healing halls. All three were surprised when Nimeithel asked to join the patrol. 

“This will be no walk in the woods, Nimeithel,” Elrohir pointed out. “There will be fighting and you are no warrior.”

“I am well aware of that,” Nimeithel conceded. “But I want to help. I promise I will stay out of the way.”

“Nimeithel—” Legolas began doubtfully.

“I can help with any wounded,” she hastily added. “And I can do the cooking.”

They stared at her, nonplussed for a moment. And then Elladan chuckled. “You are as persistent as a Dwarf in search of _mithril_ ,” he remarked. “Tell me, can you climb trees?” 

It was Nimeithel’s turn to stare. “I beg your pardon?” she managed to say. “Why should I know how to climb trees?

“Because if there is any danger, it will probably be the safest place for you to be,” Elladan replied. “I know you can move quietly and I will assume, correctly I hope, that you can also move quickly. Therefore, all I wish to know is if you can climb a tree.”

Nimeithel shook her head in some disbelief. “I can scramble up any tree you choose, Elladan. I am a Wood-elf, remember?” 

Elladan studied her a moment longer. Accurately surmising that she would not be dissuaded and might even do something rash to get her way, he looked at Legolas. A glance of question and agreement passed between them, Legolas shrugging in resignation. Elladan gave in.

“Very well, you may come. But you will have to stay with me or Legolas at all times and follow everything I say. Is that understood?”

“Understood,” Nimeithel quickly agreed. 

“Then I suggest you rest well tonight for we leave at dawn. I will have proper raiment provided for you in the morning.” 

oOoOoOo

No walk in the woods. Not even when one was on horseback, Nimeithel thought confusedly in her weariness. She hung on to her steed tenaciously, determined not to disgrace herself by falling of it as no proper Elf would. She tugged self-consciously at the hem of her tunic.

She had blushed deeply when she beheld her image in a mirror after donning the clothing Elladan had sent to her. She’d never worn anything that revealed more than her ankles in all her life and now here she was in a garment that showed her shapely legs. The form-hugging long breeches did nothing at all to ease her embarrassment. The tunic and long-sleeved under-shirt were no help either, as both opened at the sides and, therefore, oft revealed the contours of her thighs as well. Definitely most unseemly for a maiden, she thought, discomfited anew. Only stern warrior-maids could get away with such brief garments. 

The patrol was now some five days traveling distance from Rivendell. They’d seldom paused for rest, always hastening on once they picked up the trail of their prey. They’d already come across evidence of the orcs’ brutish activities – ravaged hamlets, strung up corpses and grisly feasts, human peasants fleeing their burning homes and fields. Already driven by his need to avenge his mother’s suffering, Elladan was all the more enraged by these further atrocities and pushed on with grim intent. Meanwhile, Nimeithel kept to her word, always staying by his or Legolas’s side and taking over most of the cooking to free up the other scouts. 

By noon, the troop had discovered the orcs’ exact whereabouts near a small wooded area several miles north of the last settlement they’d attacked. Elladan swiftly laid a trap for them. While a few scout headed off to lure them into the snare, everyone else disappeared into the high branches of the trees. Nimeithel felt her heart pounding wildly as she followed Elladan and Legolas up a large oak. One restrictive glance from Elladan warned her to stay put no matter what happened. 

In what seemed like mere seconds, the scouts dashed by below them, the sounds of heavy treads and feral curses close on their heels. Soon the orcs arrived beneath the trees. Bedlam broke out as a rain of arrows greeted them. Panicking, the orcs scattered. The Elves dropped down to finish off the survivors. 

Watching anxiously from her perch, Nimeithel spotted a wounded soldier as he limped away from the center of the fray. Fearing for his safety, she climbed down against Elladan’s orders and hurried to help the Elf get out of harm’s way. Just as she’d gotten him behind a wide-trunked tree, she felt the hairs on her nape stand up. Glancing behind her, she froze when she realized an orc had her in its sights.

Elladan saw her peril and sprinted to shield her. She screamed when he took the arrow meant for her in his left shoulder. Only his superb reflexes and strength enabled him to fling a knife at the orc archer in retaliation, thereby killing it. Nimeithel caught him as he sagged to the ground, his face paling considerably as blood oozed steadily from the injury. 

The fighting soon came to an end with nary a goblin left alive to so much as whimper. Seeing that Elladan was injured, Legolas hastened to him to tend to the wound. Nimeithel had helped the older twin sit up against a tree. Legolas bent over the wound, his nimble fingers examining the severity of the damage. Though not as skilled a healer as the twins, he was familiar with the treatment of injuries sustained in battle.

“I think ‘tis poisoned,” Elladan managed to whisper. “It burns and the pain is spreading.”

Worried, Legolas inspected the arrow’s position in the wound. They exchange grimaced looks. Without another word, Legolas took out his knife and, before Nimeithel’s horrified eyes, proceeded to dig out the arrowhead. 

She glanced at Elladan. He was white beyond belief, pain etched into his features. Yet he made no sound beyond an occasional moan. 'How can he withstand such pain?' she wondered, her heart breaking for him. She blamed herself. 'This is my fault,' she thought. 'If I hadn’t been here, this wouldn’t have happened!'

Instinctively she took his hand. A hiss of pain escaped his lips and he clutched convulsively at her hand. 

Legolas managed to pull the arrowhead free. This time Elladan could not stifle a gasping groan. Shuddering, he turned and buried his face in Nimeithel’s breast. Intuitively, she wrapped her arms around him and held him closer, trying to impart whatever comfort she could give. 

“There _is_ poison at work,” Legolas said vexedly. He handed Nimeithel a clean cloth. “Here, staunch his wound,” he told her. “We must get him back to Lord Elrond as soon as possible. I will see to the others.” He hurried off. 

Nimeithel pressed down on the wound as she was told but Elladan raised his hand and stopped her. “Help Legolas,” he told her.

“But I cannot leave you like this,” Nimeithel protested.

“There are others more grievously injured than I,” he reminded her. “They need your help.”

“But, Elladan—”

“Do as I say, Nimeithel! Go!”

Nimeithel flinched at his sharp command. He had spoken to her as a captain and not as a friend. Biting back her tears, she dumbly nodded and rose to her feet.

As she moved among the wounded, she kept glancing back at the Elf-lord. Injured as he was, he remained in command, directing his warriors and giving comfort to those more seriously hurt than himself. She was awed by his strength and humbled by his courage. It then came to her. 

She knew she had began to care for him far beyond what one felt for a friend but she had suppressed those feelings by reminding herself that, as he saw her as no more than his best friend’s sister, he was beyond her reach. Now she could no longer deny them. 

_I am falling in love with him._

A mere day and several hours later, she found herself watching from the door of one of the healing rooms as they laid him down on a bed. They had journeyed back with more speed than when they'd gone forth and gained the valley's safety in less than half the time it had taken to catch up with the orcs. Elrohir had met them at the Ford of the Bruinen and helped bear his twin back to the Last Homely House. Now Elrond and his healers moved in to strip him of his bloodied tunic, jerkin and shirt and examine the wound. 

Nimeithel observed her brother and Elrohir speaking in hushed tones with one of the healers. She wondered what was happening but could not discern anything intelligible. 

At last Elrohir came out, his fair face sober. He noticed Nimeithel standing by the door. Her face was an open book. He read misery and guilt and fear in her expressive features and took pity.

“He will be all right,” he gently assured her. “We have drained most of the poison and his body will be able to deal with whatever remains. But he will be in much pain for another day or so.”

Nimeithel swallowed hard. “I wish there was something I could do to help,” she whispered.

Elrohir glanced back into his twin’s chamber. One healer was binding the wounds and to one side Elrond was mixing a medicinal draught. He turned back to Nimeithel. “He will sleep soundly for now but when he awakens, he will likely feel the pain,” he informed her. “Father is preparing something for it. And he wants Elladan watched this night.”

Nimeithel looked at the younger twin gratefully. “Please, I wish to take that duty,” she softly pleaded.

Elrohir nodded. “It will be a long night,” he said. “And there is nothing you can do right now. I suggest you freshen up and get something to eat.”

Nimeithel agreed. She took one more long glance into the chamber then departed for her own. Elrohir watched her receding figure. A hand on his shoulder told him Legolas had come up beside him and was watching his sister as well. 

“She blames herself for this,” Elrohir murmured. Legolas nodded in assent. 

oOoOoOo

Nimeithel gazed down at Elladan. She had pulled a chair up to his bedside and settled there for the night. She’d been staring at him for the better part of four hours but found she did not tire of studying the contours of his face or the line of his shoulders and torso. 

He was beautiful, of that she had always been keenly aware. But it was only now that she had a chance to appreciate his beauty in full. Asleep, with his silken hair spread out in sable waves on the pristine pillow, he looked so much like an innocent. But the innocence was deceptive, she mused with a shiver. Here was one who wielded power with ease and grace. He could be as gentle as day or as perilous as night, a loyal friend or a ruthless enemy.

She was thankful that his eyes were closed. It was all too easy to lose one’s self in those blue-tinged grey eyes. As warm as sunlight or as cold as ice, this changeability as charming as it was bewildering. They were dangerous, those eyes, for they saw too much yet gave little away and lured one into betraying one’s secrets. It did not do to gaze too long into them if one wanted to keep something to one’s self. Her gaze drifted to his mouth. 

She wondered at the power of his smile. One was uplifted by it but also unnerved. Those same lips could turn grim or stern and make you rue ever having crossed him. She sighed. Their last exchange had not been pleasant. She had been foolish to try and countermand a direct order. I should have known better, she regretfully admitted to herself. Her eyes drifted lower once more. 

It was the first time she had seen him unclothed, at least from the waist up. He was slender like her brother but his torso and limbs were slightly more solid. His Peredhil heritage she realized. Nevertheless, he was perfection personified in her eyes. Only the bandages on his shoulder marred the flawlessness of his body. The bandages whose snowy whiteness was now slightly stained with blood. They don’t belong there, she thought. They wouldn’t even be there if not for me. 

Elladan turned his head slightly, a soft sound escaping his lips. Nimeithel immediately came closer, kneeling by the bed. When he opened his eyes, her face was the first thing he saw.

Before he could speak, pain lanced from his shoulder down his arm and radiated outward to his chest. A sharp breath escaped him and he was forced to grit his teeth in order not to cry out. Nimeithel gasped and quickly rose to fetch from the bedside table the draught prepared by Elrond. Hurriedly, she knelt once more the drinking cup in hand.

“Here,” she murmured. “This will help ease the pain.” 

Slipping an arm under his neck, she gently helped him up. She held the cup to his lips. He took a few swallows then lay back once more, eyes still closed in pain. Nimeithel felt her heart constrict with hurt and guilt as she gazed at his white face. 

Tears streamed down her cheeks and a smothered sob burst from her. Elladan opened his eyes at the sound and looked at the silently weeping princess. Reaching out his hand he took hers and squeezed it reassuringly.

“‘Tis all right, Nimeithel,” he whispered.

The Elf-maid looked at him incredulously. “How can it be all right? You are hurting so terribly!”

Elladan managed a wan smile. “Nay, I’ve known worse.”

“Worse?” Nimeithel stared at him, appalled. “What could possibly be worse than this?”

The Elvenlord shook his head. “I do not think you want to know. You will have to get used to this; ‘tis part of our lives.”

Nimeithel swallowed her tears. “I must change the bandages,” she thickly said. She hurriedly unraveled the long panels of cloth. Baring the injury, she was reminded of the reason for it and was stricken with guilt once more. As she sponged away the dried blood, she chided herself for having insisted on going along on the sortie. 

“This is my fault,” she whispered. “I am so sorry, Elladan.”

Elladan glanced at her, a frown between his brows. “Do not say that,” he admonished. "'Tis no one’s fault.”

“But if I had not come along, you would not have had to shield me from that arrow,” she said bitterly. “What use was I anyway? Just a useless piece of baggage.”

When he didn’t respond, she thought he agreed with her. Biting her lower lip, she proceeded to clean the wound. But as she moved to get up and fetch fresh bindings, he took her hand and pulled her back.

“Do not think of yourself thusly,” he told her gently. “You wanted to help and you did help wherever and whenever needed. I hardly call that useless.” 

“But if I had not been in the way, you—”

He put a finger to her lips, startling her into silence. “The fortunes of war,” he reminded her. “‘Tis not your fault. Do not speak of it again.”

Nimeithel hesitated then nodded and rose. As she gathered the bandages, scissors and medicaments on the bedside table, she found her thoughts wandering in a totally unexpected direction. 

His finger on her lips had taken her by surprise. But more than that it had suddenly made her feel an intimacy with him that had not been there before. To love from afar was one thing. To experience any physical closeness, no matter how fleeting, was another. In the space of one day and one night he had set her on a course from which there could be no return. She could not tell whether she was pleased or frightened.

When she returned to his side, she realized he had fallen back into slumber caused no doubt by the draught she had given him. As gently as she could, she dressed his wound, praying she would not awaken him and renew his discomfort. 

When she was done she stared at his peaceful features. With infinite tenderness, she brushed the strands of raven hair from his cheek. And then she took a chance and dared to press a kiss to his smooth forehead. 

_Sleep well, Eledhîren._

*************************************  
Glossary:  
tuilë and yavië - Quenya for spring and autumn  
tôr iuar – older brother  
Eledhiren - my Elvenlord

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

Five days later, Elladan was out in the drill yard honing his skills. His brother and friend chided him for getting back into training so soon but he was unmoved. Trouble could very well be upon them sooner than expected. He did not intend to be caught unprepared.

Nimeithel watched as he and Elrohir dueled with knives. Despite his injury, Elladan remained a formidable opponent. The match ended in a draw, leading Legolas to laud the older twin and tease the younger.

“If that is all you can manage with an Elf lately come from his sickbed, how in Arda are you going to defeat one who is well and whole?” Legolas commented with a smirk.

“Nay, I was only being gentle,” protested Elrohir. “Would you have me be the cause of his relapse into illness? Nimeithel would string me up from the highest tree if she does not flay me alive first!”

Nimeithel blushed at his banter while amused laughter resounded around her. In the middle of a chuckle, Elrohir caught the almost guilty expression on her face and paused to ponder it. He traced her sneaked glances to his twin. The Elf-knight wondered. 

oOoOoOo

Spring went by and summer soon reached its peak. The four companions had no lack of activities to indulge in though Nimeithel, chastened by what had happened to Elladan, no longer insisted on going along on patrol or hunts. She did, however, request that she be taught the rudiments of fighting that she be at least able to defend herself.

“Mother died defending our honor,” she soberly told Elladan one fine day as they watched Elrohir and Legolas spar with sword and knife. “Had she not known how to wield a knife, we would have been despoiled ere Legolas arrived.”

“You have been sheltered overmuch,” Elladan agreed. “‘Tis surprising for an Elf of Mirkwood.”

Nimeithel sighed. “I suppose it comes of being an only daughter and the youngest as well.” She glanced shyly at the Elf-lord. “Legolas is reluctant to teach me. Will you convince him to do so?”

Elladan smiled. “I will do better than that,” he said. “ _I_ will teach you.”

Nimeithel blinked. “You?” she almost squeaked.

“Why so shocked?” he grinned. “I promise, I will not slice you up too much.”

Nimeithel gulped. 'Nay, you will just make mincemeat of me,' she thought frantically.

Will she, nill she, the Elf-princess found herself the fumbling student to Elladan’s patient teacher. Though initially resistant to the suggestion, Legolas eventually acquiesced and Elladan wasted no time at all beginning Nimeithel’s lessons. Before long, Elrohir started to train her as well and, at long last, Legolas decided to put in time to teach his sister the basics of archery. 

She soon rued her request when she would retire each night a mass of aching muscles and protesting joints, some of which she did not even realize existed. How could any _elleth_ desire to be a warrior, she would groaningly think each time she sank into a hot bath to ease her sore body. Obviously they are misled into thinking it a charming profession, she would scowlingly conclude before whimpering as another ache made itself known.

Nevertheless, under the twins and her brother’s able tutelage, she learned enough to wield sword and knife though she knew she would never be more than adequate. It was in archery, though, that her Silvan heritage became apparent for she soon became quite adept at it. 

She was practicing one early morning by herself, intent on perfecting this martial skill that seemed to come to her much more easily than the others. Such was her surprise and discomfiture when she suddenly heard Elladan speak up just behind her.

“Your grip is too high,” he murmured. “Here, let me show you.”

She caught her breath as he came close and reached around her to adjust her grip on the bow. Faint crimson stains touched her cheeks as his scent teased her nostrils. For several weeks now that scent had beguiled her whenever they grappled with one weapon or another. It was utterly tantalizing to say the least. Nothing like the forest scent of a Wood-elf but bewitchingly evocative of the aromas of the hidden vale instead. Small wonder Legolas had swiftly surrendered to Elrohir that first night they lay together, she distractedly thought. The twins’ scents alone were enough to undo anyone!

It was with relief that she felt him release her and move away. Any longer and she would have given herself away with some foolish action or remark. She glanced up at him to thank him only to have her words die before they left her lips. 

He was looking at her in the oddest manner, his brow slightly creased and his eyes glittering darkly. She nearly forgot to breathe, so strong was the spell of his gray gaze. And then, he abruptly released her from his compelling eyes, and, with a curt nod, strode away. She stared after him in bewilderment.

oOoOoOo

The afternoon found the brethren and Legolas headed out for a dip in the Bruinen. As they followed the pebbled path to the river, they heard raised, agitated voices. 

Rounding a small cluster of trees, they came upon Daurin and Enedrion in the middle of what looked like, for all intents and purposes, a lovers’ quarrel. The two warriors were startled by their sudden appearance. Enedrion flushed then turned and fled into the concealment of the woods, unheeding of Daurin’s calls to him. But none of the three had missed the utter despair on his usually stoic features.

Glorfindel’s second-in-command looked miserable to say the least. Elladan placed a comforting hand on his arm and asked: “What has happened? What were you fighting about?” 

The warrior swallowed hard. “I-I told him that I wished to end our relationship that I might woo Almariel in full,” he mumbled. “I did not realize – did not know he loved me so—” The Elf stopped, unable to continue. After a long pause, he shuddered and said dolorously: “I never meant to hurt him.”

“I am sure you did not,” Elladan said gently.

“But I did nonetheless,” the Elf said remorsefully. “He did not deserve that.” 

“He did not,” Elrohir frankly agreed. “‘Tis a pity you did not anticipate this possibility when you took him and kept him as lover all these years.”

“Elrohir!” Elladan exclaimed. “You are too harsh, _gwanneth_.”— younger twin.

But Daurin shook his head and said, “Nay, ‘tis the truth. I should have known how he felt after so long. Instead, I led him to believe... I am naught but an inconsiderate fool.”

He turned and walked away, head bent in regret and despondency.

Elrohir watched the warrior return to the barracks, his eyes glittering with a little anger. "'Twas inevitable that someone would be hurt,” he said tightly. “Enedrion’s heartbreak might have been averted had Daurin been more forthright from the start.” 

Elladan nodded slowly, unable to disagree. “‘Tis at times like this that I am glad I lack the intensity of your feelings, _muindor_ ”—brother—he admitted.

Legolas glanced at the brothers with brooding eyes. He kept silent. His lack of response drew Elrohir’s attention and the younger twin looked at him wonderingly. He noted the expression on his friend’s face.

“Calenlass? What ails you?” he softly asked.

Legolas started and returned his gaze. The prince looked deeply shaken. “So it was with Sirgon. As it was when _Naneth_ died,” he whispered harshly. “And when your mother departed.” He shuddered, remembering Sirgon’s despair, his father’s agony echoed later in Elrond’s eyes. “Love is cruel. I will never love like that,” he suddenly vowed. “I will not let my heart endure such grief!”

The twins stared at him.

“You cannot mean that, _mellon nîn_ ”—my friend—Elladan said. “The heart cannot be denied once it chooses its life’s mate.”

Legolas shook his head almost violently. “But I will deny it!” he said fiercely. “I will not give it away only to suffer from grief and pain. I have seen enough of others’ sorrows to know I cannot bear it.”

“Do not speak rashly, Legolas. You cannot know what the fates have in store for you. None of us can.”

“Let the fates unleash what they will upon me,” the archer declared. “So long as they leave my heart alone.” He noted Elrohir’s frown. “Do not try to dissuade me, Elrohir,” he said sharply. “My heart is mine to give and I choose to give it to no one. From this day forth it is shut.”

For the space of a moment, Elrohir regarded him somberly. Finally he spoke in a low voice. “And will you shut Elladan and me out as well?”

Legolas started then stared at the Elf-knight. His argent eyes were sad but understanding. He then glanced at Elladan and realized the sorrow was mirrored in the older twin’s eyes. The prince felt guilt smite him that he should have hurt his dearest friends. “Nay, _gwedyr_ , that love I will cleave to even more closely,” he softly amended. “‘Tis the binding of hearts and spirits I shun, not the bonds of brotherhood between friends. Elrohir, I feared to lose you then; I could not endure losing either of you now.”

“You would never lose us, Legolas,” the younger twin pointed out. “Whether you want it or not, you will always have our love.”

Legolas smiled, warmed by the other’s words. “‘Tis is all the love I need,” he replied. “But my heart I will keep.” 

Elrohir nodded resignedly. "'Tis your choice,” he murmured. 

He looked at his brother. Elladan stilled a start of consternation at the bleakness in the depths of his twin’s eyes. But Elrohir’s gaze also conveyed a clear desire not to discuss the matter and so the older twin was forced to set it aside for the present.

oOoOoOo

As summer slowly ran its course, so did Nimeithel’s diffidence in weapons use give way to burgeoning confidence. Indeed, so satisfied was Elladan with her progress that he surprised her by asking her if she wished to join him and the others on a brief patrol of the easternmost borders of the woods along the Bruinen. 

Flattered that he should think her capable enough to bring along, she accepted with alacrity. And firmly put her self-consciousness aside insofar as revealing tunics and tight breeches were concerned. 

They expected little to happen that day. But, like any day in the all too uncertain present, things could and did happen. As they followed the tree-lined course of the Loudwater, the sound of frantic cries for help reached them. Spurring their steeds forward, they came upon a small party of outlaws chasing a young boy. Unhesitatingly, the Elves charged into battle. 

Nimeithel held back, determined not to be a hindrance to the others. She did keep an anxious eye on her brother and the twins though common sense told her it was a waste of a good worry. The three were formidable in any battle. This was just a skirmish; a mere romp to such seasoned fighters. She tried to direct her attention elsewhere. 

It was while she was perusing the other soldiers that she spotted the child once more. With a thrill of horror, she realized he had been driven to the very banks of the river by a knife-wielding brigand. 

Without further ado, she sped toward him, drawing her sword as she ran. She swung it up just in time to block the bandit’s downward stroke then, acting purely on instinct, brought it down hard, slicing through the man’s shoulder. He cried out in agony and staggered back, dropping his weapon. 

But the boy, already teetering on the edge of the high banks, lost his balance and toppled into the swift running water. He was swept away almost at once, screaming in terror as the cold waters drew him down now and again. Realizing the child did not know how to swim, Nimeithel dove in after him.

Like most Elves, she was a strong and natural swimmer and soon reached the floundering child. Grasping him by the scruff of his collar, she managed to hold him above water but found she could not fight the currents at the same time. Grabbing at a large boulder in the middle of the river, she desperately called for help. 

In the midst of gutting his opponent, Elladan heard her cries. Seeing her predicament, he raced to the riverbank and dove into the chill waters. Powerful strokes brought him swiftly to Nimeithel. Reaching her, he quickly relieved her of the child.

“Can you swim back?” he asked.

“Without the child, aye!” she replied and proceeded to prove her capability.

Back on solid ground, they found the situation well in hand. Not a single bandit had escaped the Elves’ charge. And thanks to Nimeithel, the child was safe and able to convey in full what had befallen him. 

After donning dry clothes, Elladan joined Elrohir as he briefly questioned the child. Legolas, on the other hand, saw to his sister’s welfare. Reassured that she was well, he left her that she might change into fresh clothing behind a stout tree. That done, she settled on the grass, her pack by her side, toweling her hair dry.

She looked up, startled, when Elladan appeared and knelt at her side. He handed her a simple flask and bade her drink from it.

She obediently complied, taking a mouthful of the mead-like liquor. Almost immediately, warmth suffused her body.

“What in Arda—?” she gasped.

Elladan chuckled. “Has Legolas never told you about our cordial?”

“Oh. So this is the famous _mirror_ ,” she said. “I must say I am impressed. ‘Tis far more potent than I’d expected.”

Again, Elladan chuckled before taking a swig of the cordial himself. Afterwards, he regarded her intently. 

“That was brave of you to go in and help that child,” he quietly told her.

Slight color stained the Elf-maid’s cheeks but she strove to maintain an air of nonchalance.

“I could not let him drown,” she answered, shrugging. She winced as the motion caused her shoulders to ache. “Ah, my poor muscles. I did not realize the current would be so strong. How is the boy?”

“He will be all right. ‘Twas fortunate you saved him. He was looking for help, Nimeithel. His village was raided and some women were taken captive. We must leave as soon as possible if we are to catch up with the rest of the band.”

Nimeithel nodded and tried to brush her now unruly hair into some semblance of neatness. Elladan watched her frustration for a while then smiled and said, “Here, let me help.”

He moved behind her and, to her confusion, plaited her hair swiftly and deftly. She blushed furiously for there was a familiarity in the act that made her shiver with feelings she did not dare examine. Mercifully, in what seemed like a matter of seconds, he was done and no longer did bothersome strands of hair brush against her face. 

“That was quick,” she managed to comment.

“A warrior cannot waste time on his hair,” he pointed out. Noticing her frown, he chuckled lightly and said, ”Do not worry, it suits you.” 

Still unsure, Nimeithel dug into her pack and brought out a small silver object. Elladan burst out laughing when he realized what it was.

“A mirror?” he grinned. “You brought a mirror with you out here?”

Nimeithel scowled. “I am still an _elleth_ ”—Elf-maid—she retorted with as much dignity as she could muster before studying her reflection.

“Did I not say it suits you?” he teasingly chided her. 

Nimeithel had to admit that he was right. Not only did the style show off the fine angles of her face, it was also very practical, holding back her hair effectively from her face. Then remembering that it was Elladan who had arranged it so, she blushed again. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry as color washed over her cheeks.

“‘Tis strange to think that you braided my hair,” she murmured with some embarrassment.

Elladan smiled and rose. Before he walked off he grinned at her once more. “Who knows, you may do the same for me one day,” he said lightly.

Nimeithel stared after his retreating back. His words made her actually imagine what it would be like to run her hands through his raven hair, feeling the midnight strands between her fingers. “If you only knew how much I would love to!” she muttered with a scowl before gathering her things and following him. 

They had little more trouble pursuing the remaining bandits and dispensing with them. To Nimeithel’s relief, none of the human females had yet been touched though that had clearly been their captors’ intent. After escorting the women back to their village and their grateful families, the Elves returned to Rivendell.

Henceforth, Nimeithel wore her locks as Elladan had plaited them. What he made of the gesture, she could not guess. But she arranged her hair thusly because it obviously pleased him and that pleased her greatly in turn. 

oOoOoOo

All too soon, or so it seemed, summer ended and autumn made its appearance. With the turn of the seasons came the closing of Legolas and Nimeithel’s visit to Rivendell. 

“Time flies too swiftly when one is enjoying one’s self,” Legolas growled as he and Elrohir made their way up the hills behind the Last Homely House. It was the twins’ begetting day and, as was his wont, the woodland prince always awaited its passing before departing for home. “When will you come to Mirkwood again, _gwador_?”

Elrohir shrugged. “I cannot say for certain. With Arwen in Lórien, Father desires for us to remain close by. Though there is the possibility of some hunting come next spring should the orcs dare to encroach on our territory again,” he added. At the beginnings of a scowl on his friend’s face, he said quietly: “We will keep it brief. I will not break my promise to you.”

Legolas regarded him solemnly for a spell. Then he nodded and they went on, wending their way up a hidden trail that led to a wide tree-shaded shelf overlooking the valley. Here they sat and gazed upon Imladris in comradely silence.

The vale was awash in the gold and browns of autumn. Already, it was cooler and the bracing breezes would soon give way to chill ones. Of course, Rivendell, sheltered by the power of Vilya, never experienced anything worse than the mildest of winters though Elrond did not entirely shield his realm from all inclement weather either. The two Elves drew in their fill of sweet, pine-scented air. 

The archer sighed at length. “Just take care, Elrohir,” he softly said. “Don’t let your anger rule you.” He glanced at the Elf-knight, then took his hand in his, squeezing it tightly. “I always worry that you will heedlessly run on your death. I could not bear to lose you.”

“I am never so heedless as to foolishly court ruin,” Elrohir assured him. “I have not forgotten your counsel all those years ago when first you hunted with us.” He squeezed Legolas’ hand in turn. “And you are too precious a friend to go without for too long. I regret our prolonged absences, Legolas. ‘Tis time lost that would have been better spent in your company.”

Legolas smiled at the tender utterance. “Then do not waste much more of it in vengeful endeavors. Come to Mirkwood soonest, Elf-knight.”

The twin’s eyes gleamed with argent fire. “As you wish, Calenlass.”

oOoOoOo

The Mirkwood siblings departed before the first full chill descended on the vale. There was still much to say and too little time to say it. And so they made do with gentle words of parting, confident that they would be together again ere too long. 

As the youngest children of Thranduil rode out of Imladris, the brethren felt themselves bereft. A shared look between them silently affirmed that they would indeed not wait for too many years to pass before following their friends to their forest realm.

Greenwood the Great beckoned. They would heed its summons. 

*********************************  
Glossary:  
gwedyr – sworn brothers

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

Mirkwood, _laer_ T.A. 2782  
The two Elves darted swiftly through the treetops, nimbly leaping from one branch to another, running along leafy limbs scarcely larger than the circumferences of their own arms, occasionally swinging down from towering giants to their less lofty cousins. So graceful were they and so easy did they make the exercise appear that any mortal being not well-versed in the varied elven kindreds, who witnessed their exuberant play, might be led to believe it a skill common to all the Firstborn.

They came to the great clearing before the halls of the Elvenking of Northern Mirkwood. Without missing a beat, the two dropped to the ground simultaneously, landing with feline lightness and precision. The golden-haired Elf glanced at his grey-eyed companion; they both burst into merry laughter. Still chuckling, Legolas slipped an arm through Elrohir’s and began to lead him towards his father’s delved palace. 

Both were clothed in the green and brown of the Silvan Elves of the Woodland Realm. But while Legolas sported the flowing tresses and tiny braids of a Mirkwood warrior, Elrohir could have passed for one of the horse-lords of Rohan with his single thick plait were it not for his dark tresses, the age-old wisdom in his eyes and his uncommon beauty.

“You are as agile and sure-footed as any Wood-elf, _gwador_ ,” Legolas praised his friend.

The warrior smiled, pleased with the compliment. “‘Tis due to our stays in Lórien I warrant,” he said. “Elladan and I have frequented the Golden Wood far more oft than we used to these past many years.”

“So fortunate for the Galadhrim to have had the pleasure of your company then,” Legolas remarked a little tartly. “And obviously a goodly helping of it.”

Elrohir’s smile faded. It was but five years since Legolas’s visit to Rivendell. In that time, the prince had not been sanguine that the twins would be able to keep their promise to come to Mirkwood before long. He’d therefore been delighted when he received word of their imminent arrival. At Elrohir’s request, Arwen had shortened her stay in Lothlórien and returned to the vale to keep their father company. 

Legolas had been well pleased that they’d been able to keep their promise to him. But it was also apparent, as Elrohir noted now, that the prince’s resentment over their prior negligence had not completely abated. 

“Calenlass? ‘Tis not the first time you have expressed your displeasure at our lengthy absences,” he said quietly. “If you still resent us for this, please be open with me now. It pains me to know we offended you so grievously.”

Legolas glanced at his friend, noted the other’s pensive countenance. He sighed.

“‘Tis only that I felt you had forsaken me,” he admitted. “You in particular, Elrohir. The number of messages you thought to send were so few and their contents oft inadequate for my needs. I could not help fearing at times that you had – that you had found another more worthy of your regard.”

“More worthy?” Elrohir frowned his bemusement.

“Well, aye. You are of a line revered throughout Elfdom while I am just a simple Wood-elf for all my sire’s lordly heritage.” Legolas bit his lip and looked away. “I was honored when you befriended me but, I confess, I have wondered what you saw in me that you did.”

The twin’s stare turned incredulous. He held back, bringing them both to a stop, and compelled the archer to face him. 

“You questioned that?” he said disbelievingly. “You who have proven more great-hearted and noble than many an Elda returned from Aman? Legolas, you are more than worthy of any one’s regard! Certainly, you have mine in full measure and you always will. Greater than any other, I promise you.” He hesitated then continued softly. “There are times I esteem you more that I do my own kin. Even Elladan.”

Legolas gazed at him in rampant relief. “Then I am not... You have not...”

“Found another in your stead? Nay, _malthernil_. There is none in all Eä who could possibly replace you in my affections.”

Legolas broke into a radiant smile. “I am glad that you feel thusly,” he said. “I had thought... Ai, Elrohir, I will hold you to your promise never to be parted from me for much longer than a few years!” 

This fervent declaration elicited such a look of brilliant elation from the warrior that it caused the archer’s heart to skip a beat. But before he could inquire as to the cause of his friend’s warmer than usual reaction, he caught sight of the great stone doors of the palace opening. Several _eolith_ in court attire emerged led by a rather flamboyant figure. This one carried herself with a predatory arrogance more befitting a huntress than a lady of Thranduil’s court. Legolas grimaced in distaste and hurriedly hauled Elrohir back into the shadows of the closely packed trees.

“Legolas, what—?”

The prince nodded in the direction of the ladies as they crossed the bridge. Elrohir peered at them, taking note in particular of the Elf-maiden Legolas had earlier looked upon with such dislike. A quick glance at the prince’s scornful expression confirmed his suspicion as to the reason for his friend’s precipitate retreat. 

“So, you, too, have known the, uh, charms of Lady Nelleth,” Elrohir said with a smirk.

“Charms?” Legolas snorted. “I would not dignify what she does with that word. I was fortunate to make it out of her chamber intact!” He suddenly stiffened and eyed Elrohir suspiciously. “ _I, too?_ What do you—?” At Elrohir’s wicked grin, he exclaimed, “You bedded her? How could you stand her?”

The Elf-knight shrugged. “Once I had her measure ‘twas a simple matter to match and best her. But I do not care to repeat the experience. She is too rapacious for my taste.”

Legolas did not know whether to scowl or laugh. “For your taste? I thought you had no limits when it came to bed-play.”

“I do not so long as ‘tis not forbidden by the Eldar,” Elrohir pointed out. “But Nelleth... she cares not for the needs of others. ‘Tis her desires that count, her pleasure, her completion. She does not couple with her partners but rather ravages them if she can.”

“I gather she did not succeed with you then?” Legolas commented.

“As I said, I bested her. I do not think she will dare approach me again.” 

“And that disappoints you, I suppose,” the archer said somewhat peevishly to Elrohir’s surprise. 

“Not at all,” the twin objected. “As I said, I do not desire to lie with her again. She is far too selfish a partner to warrant more than one bedding from any sensible Elf.” When Legolas continued to look skeptical, he remarked: “Why do you doubt that I should feel this way? It matters to me that any I couple with should know as much pleasure as I or even greater if it is within my power.”

Legolas suddenly colored. “Aye, that is true,” he murmured. “You – you have always ensured mine.”

Elrohir’s eyes widened at the archer’s discomfiture. His earlier elation quickly seeped away. “Forgive me,” he said tightly. “‘Twas not my intention to trouble you by reminding you of what passed between us.”

Legolas looked up quickly, catching the faintest hint of pain in Elrohir’s voice. When the Elf-knight would have turned to walk away, he grasped his wrist, detaining him.

“‘Twas not my intention to have you think that I was displeased,” he softly said. “I am not, Elrohir. I never have been though – though it still confuses me that – that I should feel thusly with you. And only you it would seem.” When Elrohir did not reply but only looked at him with suddenly veiled eyes, Legolas pressed on, anxious to explain his feelings. “I find it passing strange that we can be... intimate with each other yet remain the best of friends.” Legolas could not help an uncomfortable blush at this point but he continued. “I could never share my bed with any of my maiden friends and still be close to them. But with you...” He lifted his hands in a gesture of bafflement. “Mayhap ‘tis because I trust you so utterly that this is possible,” he finally suggested.

Elrohir sighed and averted his eyes to stare unseeingly into the distance. Legolas thought he’d never seen his friend look so lost or depleted. 

“Elrohir, what is it?” he pleaded. “What did I say that upset you?”

At length, the Elf-warrior quietly said, “I only desire your happiness, Calenless. Whatever it may take.” Legolas stared at him, mystified by his cryptic answer. But Elrohir shook his head and added, “Think no more of this. ‘Tis of little importance. Come, the others await us.”

His demeanor brooked no protest or question. After a space, Legolas nodded and fell into step beside him. But he could not dispel the feeling that what they had spoken of was not of little importance despite Elrohir’s claim to the contrary. Certainly not when the Elf-knight’s behavior had changed so abruptly. Part of him longed to find out what had disheartened Elrohir so deeply. The other part feared that it would be something in which he would be powerless to help this dearest of all friends. 

oOoOoOo

While her brother grappled with one twin’s enigmatic behavior, Nimeithel struggled with the other’s. 

Was it her imagination or was Elladan avoiding her? It had not been so when they first arrived in Mirkwood. He’d been as friendly and attentive as he’d always been though, admittedly, he spent far more time with his brother and hers. That was to be expected of course. 

Even in Rivendell, she’d passed much of her stay there with the women of the household. She was no warrior-maid who could easily fit in with the company the twins kept or indulge indefinitely in the strenuous activities they favored.

But he had sought her company frequently enough to gladden her no end. Not to mention satisfy her secret desire to be near him as often as she could. And so she’d had the bliss of his companionship for several weeks running. Until...

What had she said or done to merit his disdain of her company? Worse, he would now ignore her when a meeting between them was unavoidable. Such near uncivil treatment almost brought her to tears on several occasions but she proudly held them back. Come what may, she was the daughter of Thranduil. Her distraught reaction in Rivendell had been the result of coming up so brutally against certain realities of which she’d had little experience. But now, she stubbornly maintained her composure, determined to do her father and brothers proud. Even if the older twin’s behavior hurt her dreadfully. 

When he did pay attention to her anew, it proved a most painful encounter. And an unexpectedly enlightening one.

She had requested Elrohir to help her practice her newly learned martial skills. Once back home, she’d come up against her father’s resistance to her continued training in the battle-arts. When it came to his only daughter, the Elvenking was protective to a fault. Superstitious as it may have seemed, Thranduil half feared that to let Nimeithel learn some of the ways of warriors was to invite the possibility of her actually having to be one in times of conflict. 

Nimeithel understood her father’s apprehension and skewed reasoning and loved him for it but she chafed at the difficulties his opposition put in her way. With Thranduil’s disapproval made clear, Legolas had then become reluctant to press on with her lessons. And if her own brother declined to train her, it was hardly meet for the other warriors, even the she-captain Tathariel, to do so. And so she’d frustratedly worked on her own, knowing she would not progress much without a seasoned tutor’s instructions. 

The twins had had no compunction about flouting Thranduil’s wishes in this matter. Indeed, Elladan had initially been the one to do it in the first weeks after they arrived in Mirkwood. But when he’d abruptly started avoiding her, she’d asked Elrohir to take over. The younger twin acceded to her request, turning a sympathetic countenance upon her not to mention a disconcertingly knowing look. 

It seemed Elrohir knew what lay within her heart. But he did not attempt to pry into her affairs. Instead, he began meeting with her each early morn in the herb garden behind the stables. Given her father’s opposition, it was more prudent not to flaunt her rebellion or his complicity by practicing in a more private setting. The garden was seldom visited save by the royal cooks if and when they needed a fresh supply of herbs for the palace larders. 

It was just as well that no one showed up to watch her spar with the younger twin except for an occasional furtive visit by Legolas. Shorn of proper supervision in the five years since her return from Imladris, her skills had lamentably diminished. It would have been humiliating to train before an audience other than her brother. At least, he did not tease her beyond bearing. 

And Elrohir was kind and patient and understanding. With him, she did not feel embarrassed by her poor showing. If anything, he made her feel more confident about her abilities with his reassuring words and gentle criticism. He went up immeasurably in her esteem and she began to think Legolas blind or mule-headed or both not to realize what a splendid mate the Elf-knight would make, Mirkwood prohibitions notwithstanding.

Then one day, Elladan showed up unbidden. Before his twin could start her instructions for the morn, he suggested that she spar with him instead. Nimeithel was completely unnerved. To be so close to the Elf-lord again...! 

At the start of the bout, she managed to hold her own. But Elladan suddenly turned ruthless and Nimeithel found herself earnestly fending off his attack. She vaguely heard Elrohir shouting at his twin to ease up, reminding him that the princess was no battle-hardened veteran. But Elladan paid him no heed. All uncalled for, he tripped her and she found herself on the grass, gasping for air and Elladan straddling her hips, his sword at her throat.

After taking in her shocked expression for a moment, he rose and tossed the sword to Elrohir. “If I’d been the enemy she would have been dead,” he said in a hard tone to his brother. On that note, he departed. 

Elrohir helped Nimeithel to her feet. Shaken, she looked at him apologetically. “I did not mean for him to be angry with you,” she murmured.

Elrohir shook his head. "'Twas not for me that he uttered those words,” he quietly corrected her.

Nimeithel swallowed hard. “You mean they were directed at me,” she said, her voice catching. “He thinks I am incompetent.” 

“He is not angry, only concerned,” Elrohir averred. At Nimeithel’s disbelieving glance, he pointed out: “He worries that you may not be able to hold your own in battle should you be forced into it. He cares about your welfare, Nimeithel. Indeed, he cares too much.”

Nimeithel sighed. “I wish I could believe that,” she said rather forlornly. “But he has been so distant with me these past many weeks.” She looked beseechingly at the younger twin. “Elrohir? Have I – have I said anything, done anything that has set him against me?”

He shook his head. “Nay, ‘tis not you that has led him to behave thusly but his own feelings.”

“I do not understand.”

“I cannot speak for Elladan. ‘Tis not my right. But this much I can say. He is as I am. His heart is not given lightly or easily.”

She stared at him. “Is yours given then, Elrohir?” she asked softly.

He gave her a smile of such melancholic sweetness that it fairly smote her. 

“Does Elladan know?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“I have not confided this in him though I am certain he suspects.”

“Why?” she pressed.

“Would you have your brother’s pity should he discover your desire?” he countered. “A desire that will likely never be fulfilled?”

She fell silent, comprehending his pride, marveling at his forbearance. 

“If ‘tis any comfort to you,” she finally said hesitantly, “I would be happy _and_ proud to call you brother.”

His grey eyes lit with pleasure at her pronouncement.

“Mayhap you shall have that chance,” he said quipped. “You need only declare your heart, Nimeithel,” he added on a more serious note. “If you have the courage to do so.”

She cocked a disbelieving eye at him. “Is that the way of the Noldor?” she queried. “Is it your female-folk who do the wooing?”

He grinned at her resilience and renewed spunk. “Nay, our traditions are as yours when ‘tis a matter of courtship between Elf-male and Elf-maid. But there are always exceptions to the rule. If you do not care to wait overlong, I would counsel you to take matters into your own hands.” 

She considered him thoughtfully. “And will you take matters into yours?” she questioned. 

The _mithri_ -hued eyes turned wistful. “When the time is ripe,” the Elf-knight replied. “If it ever is.” 

She gazed at him with sisterly affection and sympathy. 

“Thank you, Elrohir,” she near whispered. “I pray the Powers will bless you ere long with your desire. If ever there was one who deserved to win his just reward, ‘tis you.”

He blushed charmingly under her reverent regard. 

“Come now, you are much improved whatever my brother may say,” Elrohir said to dispel the emotionally fraught mood. “Let us continue.”

Nimeithel beamed, much heartened by their conversation. “Very well.” She raised her sword once more. 

**********************************************  
Glossary:  
laer – Sindarin for summer  
malthernil – golden prince  
ellith – Elf-maids  
meet – suitable or fitting ( _archaic_ )

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

_firith_ T.A. 2782  
Late autumn wrought its changes on Mirkwood even as the twins’ stay neared its completion. The forest canopy thinned as trees shed their lush foliage, the air grew chillier as winter awaited its turn and the beasts of the once green wood steadily decreased in number as many sought shelter from the coming frost. It was at this last that Nimeithel decided to follow the Elf-knight’s counsel and take matters into her inexperienced but willing hands. 

She approached Elladan one crisp evening as he sat beneath a leaf-bare tree in the now burnished gardens behind the royal pavilion. One might have taken her as bold considering his continued aloofness with her in the past weeks. But a peek at the shaking knees beneath her concealing skirts would have just as promptly disabused one of that notion. She was shocked by her own temerity but something more primitive drove her forth, overtaking her fright.

He glanced up somewhat startled as she came up to him then gracefully sank down to sit by his side, her skirts forming a lush pool of fabric about her. Thankfully, he did not at once rise and walk away as she had feared but only looked at her inquiringly. 

“I would have us on good terms, Elladan, before you depart,” she blurted out, keeping her gaze on him steady.

He went still, clearly taken unawares by her beginning statement. And then he sighed and nodded.

“Forgive me my inexcusable conduct,” he quietly said. “I should not have treated you so basely.” 

She was tempted to ask why he had done so if only to confirm Elrohir’s summation of his motives. But she held her tongue on this, instinct warning her that he was not prepared to be forthcoming about his reasons and that to press him would only scuttle this needed discussion between them.

“I will forgive you but only if you listen to what I have to say,” she said. “You need do nothing more but hear me out. ‘Tis all I ask.”

He peered at her curiously then leaned back against the tree. “Very well, I will listen,” he replied.

She drew a deep breath then plunged headlong into the uncertain waters of reversed courtship. She was mettlesome in this if nothing else.

“If I was distressed by your inattention...”

“My avoidance,” he corrected, refusing her gracious reduction of the severity of his misconduct.

She paused a moment then continued. “If it troubled me, ’twas because I thought you set against me by some misdeed of mine. It – it hurt that I might have lost your – whatever regard you bore me.” She took another calming inhalation of bracing air. “A kind soul assured me ‘twas not the case and I – I have chosen to believe him. Which is why I am here now, Elladan. I would offer you a way to make amends to me for your negligence.”

His curious stare turned substantially wary. “And what way is this?” he queried carefully.

She forced herself to look him in the eye. “You are long in experience and great in skill in more than war and the council chambers,” she said. “In that area I know precious little for I have found no one whom I could trust with the delicate task of – of tutoring me.” She saw his eyes widen incredulously as he comprehended where she was taking this talk. She rushed on before her reserves of courage should run out. “If you would be my teacher in this, I shall absolve you of your trespass against me.” She swallowed hard at his utterly stunned expression. “I do not ask this lightly, Elladan. It is my dearest wish. Please, will you not grant it?” 

The Elf-warrior was rendered thoroughly speechless by such unwonted brazenness. Yet he was not left so witless that he did not seek to discern the reason behind this seemingly egregious offer. He turned a searching gaze on her. 

Nimeithel flushed painfully when Elladan stared at her with disconcerting intensity, storm blue eyes seeming to pierce her to her very soul. When he did not reply for the longest while, she thought him offended by her request. Humiliated, she made to rise saying, ”I am not to your liking. I am sorry for troubling you.”

A strong hand caught her arm, compelling her to sit once more. “I did not say that,” Elladan quietly responded. “Indeed, I must confess, you are too much to my liking.” 

The Elven princess started. “Then why—?”

“What do you know of the choice of the Peredhil?” Elladan asked somberly.

Nimeithel frowned, recalling her brother’s tale regarding Elrond’s legacy. “Legolas told me that you have the choice to be of Elfkind or Mortal-kind,” she said.

“But the choice is contingent on our father’s presence here in Middle-earth,” he explained. “When he departs for the Blessed Realm, Elrohir and I will need to decide whether we will go with him or remain in these Hither Lands.”

“Must you actually take ship with him?” Nimeithel asked curiously. 

Elladan sighed. “Mithrandir has indicated that we may remain behind if we make our choice before _Adar_ leaves. I wish this were so. Middle-earth is the only home I have ever known. ‘Tis Valinor that would be a land of exile for me should we choose to seek the Western Shores.” 

He reached up a hand to stroke Nimeithel’s finely sculpted cheek. His touch sent a thrill up her spine that left her near breathless. “I have never given my heart to any. I cannot hold anyone to the vagaries of our choice. How can I ask any Elf to bind him or herself to me when I might forsake our kindred and choose to abide by the gift of the One? What then of my immortal spouse? I will not leave anyone to grieve and fade away because of me. Certainly not you, _pen vîreb_.” 

Nimeithel stared at him, disbelieving of his endearment. For a moment she fell silent, realizing with the wisdom of one who truly loved that she would not be able to sway him. He would not bind himself in that manner for so long as the choice loomed before him. His honor, nay, his pure heart would not permit such a transgression against one he loved. _Treasured one._ Did he then care for her? Were her hopes not in vain after all?

“If you will not have my love, then have me, Elladan,” she softly said. At his protest, she placed a finger to his lips. “If I cannot have your heart, then let me have your loving at least. For I am yours though no vows have been spoken. If I cannot be your _berth,_ I would be your _melethril_ if you will have me.” 

He stared at her almost imploringly. “You could not have made a more ill-founded choice,” he said in a hushed voice. “You deserve better, Nimeithel. You deserve one of whom you can be confident will always be there for you.”

She smiled sweetly at him, stealing his breath away. “As if the heart can choose whom it may love,” she whispered. “There is only you, Elladan.”

He made one last stab at dissuading her. “What would your father say? Or Legolas?” he said. “They would accuse me of corrupting you.”

“Nay, you know they would not,” she countered. Her smile had faded and her eyes now narrowed with sorrow. “You strive to turn me away,” she whispered painfully. “Yet you would share yourself with so many others. Even with – with Melthoron.”

“How do you know that?’ he asked in shock.

“I overheard you tell Legolas of it,” she said. 

“‘Twas a lesson dealt, Nimeithel, not my heart’s yearning.”

“But you did share yourself with him. As you refuse to do with me. I am indeed not to your liking.”

She hurriedly stumbled to her feet, her heart breaking. But in the next instant she was swept into his powerful arms, enfolded in his embrace, and a hand cupped her chin, compelling her to raise her head. When she did so, she was caught in a searing kiss that banished all thoughts of flight or pain from her mind. 

She melted against him, unable to do anything but respond to his demanding lips. Hers were peremptorily tasted, then hungrily pried apart. She moaned as her mouth was invaded then pillaged until she was shaking like a young beech in a gale. When he released her unbidden, she was compelled to lean against him, so bereft of balance or strength did his kiss leave her.

“Not to my liking?” he almost growled. “I have wanted you for years, Nimeithel! ‘Tis only your kinship to Legolas that has kept your virtue safe from me.”

She gasped against his chest at his unexpected words. Striving for calm, she lifted shining eyes to his gaze. “I do not wish to keep it safe from you,” she whispered. “I would make a gift of it to you if only you would accept it. I love you, _Eledhîren_.”

Her declaration, her endearment, her joyous countenance – all had their part in undoing Elladan. Wordlessly, his eyes riveted on her, he lifted her easily into his arms and bore her to his room. Her heart pounding with mingled elation and maidenly trepidation, Nimeithel buried her burning face in his chest.

She almost swooned when he set her down once they were within the privacy of his room. She’d never set foot within his chamber; not once in all the centuries he and Elrohir had visited Greenwood. But now, here she was, and for the most profound and life-changing of reasons.

He gently pulled her into his arms, drew her once more into the maelstrom of his heart stopping kisses while his hands reached up and lazily undid the tiny plaits in her dark hair. Freed of their constraints, her tresses flowed loosely about her shoulders and down her back. Then slowly he unlaced her gown, doing it with such practiced ease she could not help wondering how often he had undressed other Elves, both male and female, before her. But the thought fled her mind as the last lacing came undone and the garment slid from her shoulders to spread around her ankles leaving her clad in naught but her thin silken shift. That soon followed in the gown’s wake and she shivered as she stood before him bare as the day she was born. 

She shook visibly as he took her hands and raised them to the clasps of his tunic, silently inviting her to undress him. 

With shaking fingers, she managed to undo the fastenings on his tunic before timidly pushing the garment from his shoulders. Unable to look at him, she proceeded to unlace his shirt, her hands becoming more and more uncooperative as she attended to the last tie. Her breathing quickened when she realized he was undoing his breeches. She closed her eyes, unable to watch as he shed the last of his garments. 

A finger slipped under her chin and lifted it and she was compelled to look at him. She swallowed hard. It was different from when she’d guarded his sleep while he lay recovering from an arrow wound in the healing rooms of Rivendell. Elbereth! Profoundly, unarguably different! 

Here was vitality and virility in the flesh multiplying his already incomparable comeliness threefold. She could not quite stifle a moan of desire while she appreciatively perused his formidable form. As he was perusing hers, she realized with a tight shudder, his eyes raking her body unashamedly. 

Feeling more than a little insecure in the face of such breathtaking male beauty, she could not help worrying that he was not as eager about their imminent intimacy as she was.

“You are not doing this just to please me, are you?” she shakily asked. 

He took her hand and kissed it, sending a bolt of pleasure up her arm. He guided her to the bed.

“Never doubt my desire for you,” he whispered as he eased her down, his body following hers closely.

And then he was all over her and upon her and in her. She was his to do with as he pleased. Such was their shared hunger that he did not shun even the most intimate of explorations nor did she resist or protest them. Such was his skill that she felt little fear and experienced minimal discomfort at this, her first undoing. And such was her love that all she desired was to give him what he sought of her no matter what it entailed. 

He unearthed all her hidden passion, coaxed from her all the loving he knew she possessed, taught her what it meant for two Elves to join in the love-act. But he was taught as well. For one thing he had yet to learn despite all his years of experience in bed-play and that was to couple in love. 

When their bodies became as one, he felt a surge of passion the likes of which he had never known before. For the first time, not only his body knew the pleasure of completion, but also his heart and spirit. It was almost so excruciating in its intensity that he hoarsely called out her name at the moment of his release. He saw his rapture reflected in her glazed eyes, heard it resound in her moaned cries, felt it reverberate in her wantonly writhing form. And then they were falling into the sweet haze of fulfillment, lips still clinging in intimate embrace. 

As they lay together, still entwined, awaiting the calming of their senses, Elladan gazed at the one Elf who had accomplished what he’d once thought an impossibility. His heart urged him to declare his feelings at once. His mind, however, counseled caution. There were still matters that needed to be resolved before he could ask her to commit herself to him. Sighing he held her closer, wondering when that time would come.

He heard her soft mewl of contentment and chuckled. She opened her eyes and looked at him, her gaze soft and devoted. 

“Had I known how wonderful this can be, I would not have waited this long to rid myself of my virtue,” she murmured.

Elladan laughed softly, entertained as always by her wit. 

“Had I known how you felt, I would not have waited this long to relieve you of it,” he tenderly teased. 

She giggled. “‘Twas worth the wait,” she purred. “I could not have asked for more.”

His eyes darkened warningly. “Mayhap you should.”

“Should what?”

“Ask for more.”

He sealed his mouth to hers while his hands began to map her body once again. Before long, she did not even have the wherewithal to remember what it was he’d suggested much less give voice to it at all. 

It was near midnight when he escorted her to her apartments. Much as she would have liked to remain in his arms until dawn, prudence told her it was not wise. None would think askance of their princess returning to her room after a late night. But if any were to see her creeping back at the break of day – that would be unseemly for one of her station.

Elladan opened her door for her. Before she slipped in, she looked at him, the sweetest smile on her roseate lips, her eyes sparkling with all the affection she held within her. This evidence of her feelings for him near took his breath away.

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. Her countenance glowed even more radiantly.

“I love you, _Eledhîren_ ,” she whispered as she had in the gardens earlier.

Like words teetered on the tip of his tongue, so strong was the temptation to return her tenderness in kind. Elladan clamped down on the urge.

“I am honored,” he murmured. With a last smile, he walked away.

Her gaze dimmed at his less than ardent response, her smile turned tremulous. She hastened into her chamber lest he look back and see the suspicious brightness in her eyes. She had asked and he had granted no more than that he share himself with her. She would not, could not now demand anything further of him.

oOoOoOo

Elladan glanced up when his twin entered his chamber without knocking, a sign that there was something urgent he wished to discuss with him. He smiled and straightened up from his chore. His bed was covered with an assortment of personal belongings, all ready to be packed. Outside, the sun was already lowering as the last day of their visit came to a close. The brethren would depart Mirkwood the following morn.

“So, what weighty matter disturbs your peace, _gwanneth_?”—younger twin—he inquired with a grin.

To his surprise, Elrohir did not respond but only frowned reprovingly at him.

“Elrohir, what troubles you?” he asked, slightly alarmed.

“You know that Nimeithel loves you,” the Elf-knight bluntly stated.

Elladan was taken aback. He stared at his twin wonderingly.

“Aye, she told me,” he admitted.

“When?”

“Yestereve.”

“And?”

“And what? What passed between us is—”

“None of my business,” Elrohir calmly finished for him. “I care not about that, _muindor_. But what I would know is what you told her.”

Elladan drew his breath in sharply. His silence confirmed Elrohir’s suspicions.

“For one who has declared her heart’s desire, Nimeithel’s demeanor this day has been markedly... subdued,” he pointed out. “I suspect ‘tis because it has not been answered in full. Has it, _gwaniaur_?” Again, silence was his answer. “Why have you not told her how you truly feel?” Elrohir quietly asked.

Elladan turned away for a spell. At length, he faced his twin once more and sighed. “Our choice still looms before us,” he said. “I do not wish to hold her to any promise to me.”

“One might argue that she is reason enough for you to make your choice now,” Elrohir pointed out.

“‘Tis not that simple,” Elladan countered. “Our _Edain_ heritage is as seductive as our elven one. You know this. You have felt its call as keenly.”

“Aye, that I have,” Elrohir conceded. “But you were never one to heed it before. Why now?”

“Things have changed, Elrohir. I have changed.” 

The older twin’s eyes brightened with the memories of vengeance-steeped days in the wild amidst the welcome carnage of slaughtered orcs, the exhilaration of adventures in far-flung places so different from what they had always known, the lure of camaraderie and exultation of battle amongst impetuous, exasperating, utterly endearing, stout-hearted mortal warriors. He let the images flow freely, allowed his brother access to his thoughts and emotions. Elrohir recognized them and understood all too well for he knew them himself. 

“After all we have seen and done, the thought of an eternity of – of tedious tranquility and overbearing quiet in Aman no longer holds as much allure for me as it once did,” Elladan said. “I once questioned your attraction to our mortal heritage but now I comprehend it. The pull of our mannish blood has awakened in me. I am no longer so certain of my course.”

Elrohir eyed him thoughtfully. “It seems you have kept secrets from me,” he remarked.

“And you have not?” the older twin retorted.

“Aye, I have, and I will not apologize for it,” Elrohir coolly replied.

Elladan snorted. “Then what else is there to say?” he said. “You have my reason for leaving the words unsaid. ‘Twould be inconsiderate otherwise.”

“And you deem it considerate to leave her in the dark?”

“Elrohir! What would you have of me?” Elladan snapped, feeling not a little exasperated with his brother’s unexpected needling. “I have already told you. I cannot hold her to me when ‘tis uncertain if I will cleave to our kindred or not! ‘Tis reason enough to keep my silence.”

“Nay, brother, ‘tis not reason enough to withhold what you know is already hers.” He paused; Elladan noted the indecision in his brother’s eyes. Then Elrohir seemed to make up his mind and he added quietly: “You cannot possibly wish my fate upon her.”

Elladan started then stared at his twin. Saw the silent pain in the twilight eyes, the once well-veiled anguish. He drew in a harsh breath. Elrohir bristled at the kindling ruth in his brother’s gaze.

“Show me no pity, Elladan,” he said fiercely. “I will not have it. Not even from you!”

The Elf-warrior shook his head helplessly. 

“I had hoped your feelings did not run true, _tôr nîn_ ”—my brother—he said, his voice catching. “But if they do... why do you hide them from him? Why do you not follow your own counsel and tell him how you feel?”

“Because he does not return my love as Nimeithel does yours,” Elrohir pointed out, ire giving way to sorrow. “I am his friend, nothing more. Furthermore, he is still distressed by our past intimacy. He shies at even the most oblique reference to it,” he said at Elladan’s disbelieving reaction. “And now that he has chosen to close his heart... To ask more of him might very well end what we do share.” He swallowed painfully. “I would still have his friendship. I will not take the risk of losing even that. It would be... it would be the end of me.” 

Elladan felt his throat tighten at this evidence of his brother’s deep-seated passion. To have suspected it was one thing. To have it confirmed and bear witness to the hopelessness and desolation with which it was conveyed... Mutely, he reached out and hugged the younger twin. “Ah, why is it that you must suffer so?”

Elrohir held him as closely. “I chose this path. I will follow it wherever it may lead me,” he staunchly replied. He pulled away and looked keenly into his brother’s eyes. “But Nimeithel need not tread the same road as I, Elladan. If you truly care for her, you will spare her the uncertainty. Believe me, _gwaniuar_ , ‘tis agony to have but a taste of one’s desire and not know if that is all one will ever have.” He grasped his twin’s arms. “Tell her the truth, Elladan. ‘Tis for her to decide _her_ fate. You cannot choose it for her.” 

Elladan let out the breath he had not realized he’d been holding. 

************************************  
Glossary:  
firith – Sindarin for late autumn  
bereth – spouse  
melethril – female lover  
Eledhîren - my Elvenlord  
unseemly – improper ( _archaic_ )  
muindor – brother  
gwaniuar – older twin

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

It was little more than the second hour after the break of dawn and, already, Elrohir was dressed for the journey home. His things had been removed by the brethren’s retainers and all that was left for him to do was lace his leather bracers, gird his sword and draw on his cloak. When he came out of his chamber, he found Elladan waiting patiently for him in the open corridor outside. 

“Ready?” the older twin asked. His brother nodded. They began to walk down the hallway.

“Should we not wait for Legolas?” Elrohir asked.

“We can meet him in the clearing,” Elladan said. “There is something I wish to ask you regarding him.”

Elrohir glanced at him warily then shrugged. They descended the stairs to the ground floor of the pavilion. The light wooden steps spiraled around a towering oak of indiscernable age. Enclosed in naught but sturdy interwoven vines now shorn of its lush pre-autumn foliage, the staircase seemed rather whimsical in design. 

“Ask then,” Elrohir replied.

“What you said yesterday, about his discomfort regarding your intimacy,” Elladan said. “It seems odd considering that ‘twas he who offered it the last time you lay together. And twice at that. Why should that discompose him now?”

Elrohir was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. “True, he offered to lie with me. But ‘twas to give me solace and not out of love or desire.”

Elladan shook his head. “That makes no sense to me. If he feels nothing, not even lust, he could not have possibly found pleasure in all the times that you came together. And you have admitted to me that he does find pleasure. Each time without fail.”

“I did not say he feels nothing,” Elrohir demurred. “Indeed, ‘tis because he does enjoy my touch, because he finds pleasure with me that he is disconcerted. But he sets aside all considerations when he seeks to succor me. After, when he has time to think about what he has done, ‘tis then that he begins to question himself. That is what discomposes him most, Elladan. I am his friend; he believes he should not feel as he does when he couples with me.” He glanced at his brother pensively. “What use is there speaking of this? He has shut his heart to the love I bear him. I am but friend and brother to him, no more.”

“No more yet he lies with you and knows rapture at your touch,” Elladan said. “I warrant were he to open his heart, he would grieve should he not find you there.”

Elrohir smiled sadly. “Wishful thinking, _gwaniaur_ ,” he murmured. “Do not offer me false hope. ‘Twill only hinder me in enduring this.”

They were now halfway down the tree-lined path leading back to the delved palace. Before Elladan could reply, a lithe figure suddenly stepped in front of them. Startled, they came to a stop and faced an obviously irate prince.

“And were you about to depart without so much as a farewell?” Legolas asked a little acidly. 

“Nay, Calenlass,” Elrohir said. “We would never leave you thusly.”

“I only sought a private word with Elrohir,” Elladan explained. “We would have awaited you in the clearing.”

When Legolas still scowled, Elrohir took him by the arm and gently pulled him along. “Since when have we taken leave of you so inconsiderately?” he softly asked. “You know we are always loath to dispense with your company.”

The gentle, affectionate tone of the younger twin softened the prince almost at once. The scowl faded away to be replaced by a rueful smile as he relented.

“That was uncalled for,” he agreed. “Forgive me for even thinking you capable of such a deed, _gwedyr_.”

The twins smiled back at him. As they walked, speaking of random matters, he absently slipped his hand over Elrohir’s and clasped it tightly. Elladan noted the unthinking gesture and glanced at the prince. Legolas seemed oblivious of the tenderness of his action. The older twin shook his head with some exasperation. 

One of the keenest-eyed warriors in all Elfdom and yet so blind when it comes to his own feelings, he mused. Or mayhap he is just too stubborn to admit them. Elladan thought back to his twin’s words. Stubborn? Or afraid? 

They passed through the spacious terrace and sauntered along the main cavern corridor until at last they came to the great stone doors of the royal halls. The wide panels stood open and just outside Thrandruil waited with his other sons and Nimeithel. 

Goodbyes to the twins were made in each Elf’s fashion. Thranduil with fatherly regard, Melthoron still with some reserve (but was that a grateful gleam in his eyes when he spoke to Elladan?) and Brethildor, warm and bluff as ever.

Nimeithel’s farewell to Elrohir was as affectionate as any Arwen would have given him. The look they shared might have been mistaken for something other than friendly were it not for the sure knowledge that theirs was a purely platonic relationship. The goodbye to Elladan was more awkward. She strove to look him in the eye though a blush stained her cheeks as she recalled just how well he knew her now. The kiss he pressed to her temple seemed brotherly enough to others but to the Elven princess, it was almost heartbreaking. She wondered if anything would come of what they had shared. Or if she was doomed to languish for love of someone who did not seem to return it.

The brethren moved to their steeds with Legolas. At the last moment, Elladan glanced at his brother. Elrohir was seen to nod in a seemingly encouraging manner.

The older twin turned on his heel and, to everyone’s surprise, strode back to the royal family. A moment later, unmindful of her father or brothers, he swept a stunned Nimeithel into his arms and held her close to his heart. The princess instinctively slipped her arms around him, breathing somewhat unevenly against his shoulder.

“I could not leave without telling you the truth,” he murmured that she alone would hear. “If I avoided you all those weeks ‘tis because you evoked in me a wanting I have not known in all my years and I did not wish to despoil you.”

“I-I suspected as much after – after you told me you desired me,” Nimeithel whispered.

“But I do not merely desire you,” he softly declared. “I love you, my princess. I did not take you out of lust but out of my heart’s yearning.”

She stared up at him in shocked disbelief. But on the heels of it followed swiftly mounting joy.

“I thought – when you did not—” She faltered, tears stinging at her eyes.

“I told you of our choice,” he said. “I did not wish to hold you to any promises to me. And I still will not.” When she would have protested, he forestalled her. “I would not have you bound to one who may not be at your side for the eternity of your life. Until I know my path, this is all I can offer. But this I would ask. Will you wait for me, Nimeithel?” 

Nimeithel looked keenly into his stormy eyes. There was naught but love and devotion in their depths. “I will wait,” she said with a smile.

Elladan raised a hand to tenderly stroke her cheek. He bit his lip, of a sudden looking uncertain. 

“We will be parted more oft than not,” he said. “I would not begrudge you... companionship. If you should seek it. The Valar know I am in no position to demand anything from you.”

There was the faintest hint of distress in his voice though he kept it calm and steady. Nimeithel had to chuckle affectionately.

“And will you seek other company when we are apart?” she asked, her eyes alight with love.

“Nay, you know I will not,” he said. “I belong to you alone. No longer will I share myself with others.”

“Then why do you think I would?” she gently chided. “You are my first _melethron_ , my last, my only one. Did I not say so in the gardens the other day? There is no other, Elladan.” 

At her utterance, he caught her tightly to him and kissed her with as much ardor as she could possibly wish for. Right there in front of every Elf in the clearing. A part of her now thoroughly disordered mind thought that there were certain consequences to being loved by a Peredhel twin. Such as dispensing with decorum on many an occasion.

When he released her, she was as rosy as a bud in first bloom. She could not help casting apologetic glances at her staring father and brothers. Even Legolas, for all his long acquaintance with the twins and their ways, was gaping in amazement. Only a nudge from Elrohir snapped him out of his dazed stance. 

Elladan grinned wickedly. “You will have to get used to this,” he warned mischievously. “I cannot change at this late date.”

Nimeithel had to laugh at his rakish assertion. “Nor do I wish you to,” she said. “You had best send me word of your whereabouts now and then, _Eledhîren_ , else I assure you I will not hesitate to give you a piece of my mind!’

“A fearsome occurrence I am sure if you are anything like Arwen!” His eyes gentled. “I will come back soonest, _meleth_.”—love.

“I will be here,” she smiled. “Always.”

After one last lingering kiss, he walked back to Elrohir and Legolas. She watched them as they made their farewells, noted how Legolas embraced Elrohir with much warmth and even more regret that the Elf-knight was leaving. 'Ah, you are so mule-headed, brother,' she thought, mentally shaking her head.

The brethren mounted their steeds and turned them towards the hidden path. Legolas came over to stand by his father and sister. Thranduil, after a moment placed a hand on Nimeithel’s shoulder, drawing her attention for an instant from the older twin.

“You do know what to expect?” he murmured. “He is a Peredhel after all. His fate may not be as yours.”

Nimeithel glanced hesitantly at Melthoron, wondering what her eldest brother would make of the situation. But the crown prince merely looked at her curiously indicating that his previous encounter with Elladan had simply provided enlightenment. A catalyst in his life so to speak.

She nodded. “I am very aware of the consequences of my choice, _Ada_ ,” she replied, her eyes going back to Elladan’s figure.

“And you are willing to take this chance?” Legolas inquired somewhat incredulously. “What of heartbreak, _muinthel_?”—sister.

“What of it?” she replied. “‘Tis a risk we take each time we love. I would not forego the chance of happiness as I have found with him for the lonesome safety of a craven heart.” She said this pointedly to Legolas eliciting a confused frown from her brother. “Eternity is a terribly long time for one’s heart to remain untouched, unknowing and unoffered to another.” 

The brethren had reached the mouth of the tunnel. Before they entered, they turned to wave to the royal family. Elladan’s eyes met Nimeithel’s across the clearing and the emotions they shared were as tangible as the crisp breeze that swept across the open space. And then the Imladrin party was gone, swallowed up by the shadows of the path.

Thranduil placed his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. The Elvenking’s eyes glistened with the sweet memory of his own heart given. “Well said, daughter,” he smiled gently. “I would say you have chosen well.”

With a grateful smile, she leaned against her father and let him lead her back to the delved halls, Melthoron and Brethildor behind them. For a while, Legolas lingered outside, astonished by his sister’s unlooked for remonstration. And then, with a bemused shake of his fair head, he followed the others inside.

*******************************************  
Glossary:  
melethron – male lover  
Eledhîren – my Elvenlord

_End of Part XIII._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Part XIV: Crucible of Love - Legolas and Elrohir’s peerless friendship is severely tested by the most bitter of misunderstandings and a grievous betrayal of trust._


End file.
